


30-Day HQ Writing Challenge: Iwaoi

by emerald1963



Series: 30 Day HQ Writing Challenge [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, More Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, all of my headcanons for 20 years of iwaoi's life shoved together into a mess of a fic, chapter 1: shameless fluff, chapter 2: sickfic, chapter 3: nicknames, chapter 4: holy shit i wrote almost 10k, flustered oikawa and flustered iwa-chan, in which iwa is sick and oikawa helps out, iwa-chan is stressed out, more fluff tbh, not angst at all, now feat. agender kenma because who doesn't love agender kenma, so is oikawa, suga is a good friend/random stranger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald1963/pseuds/emerald1963
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm organizing all my HQ Writing Challenge fics by pairing; this is where the Iwaoi fics will go! They're probably all oneshots and they might be set in the same or different universes. (I don't know what I'm doing but I suspect that a lot of them will be set in the same universe as Chapter 1 because that contains all of my headcanons for how their life will go after high school!)</p><p>Most recent chapters:</p><p>Chapter 2: Sickness.<br/>In which Iwaizumi wakes up with a cold. Good thing Oikawa is there to take care of him.</p><p>Chapter 3: Pet Names<br/>In which Iwaizumi has a plan to get Oikawa to stop calling him Iwa-chan. It backfires in the best way possible.</p><p>Chapter 4: Words Never Said.<br/><i> It's 6 in the morning on June 10th, and Iwaizumi Hajime's soulmate is Oikawa Tooru, and he thinks he might throw up.</i> Soulmate AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm doing the 30 Day HQ Writing Challenge (or at least as much of it as I can before I drop out) and this is my fic for the first day! Yes, I know it's enormous (and I wrote it in 7 hours while listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-EwFbMJrQw)) but I hope you guys enjoy it!

They first begin when they’re seven. Space Captain Tooru is on an expedition to the alien planet of Xerbax (otherwise known as his backyard) examining an enemy spaceship (a bush) when he hears a crashing noise from the strip of forest behind his house. His head shoots up and he grips his trusty alien-vaporizing laser gun (empty water pistol) tighter, shouting “Who’s back there?” He wonders if it’s a bear, maybe. That wouldn’t be as cool as aliens, but it would be sorta exciting.

The crashing and crunching gets closer and then a small black-haired boy peeks his head out from the underbrush. He’s carrying a net over his shoulder and holding a few jars. “Oh, hi,” he says. “Wanna see my bugs?”

“Who are you?” Tooru says shrilly, a little scared of this stranger and his bugs. He’s always liked bugs best when they’re at least thirty feet away from him- they’re big and icky. What if this boy is really a spy for the Xerbaxian Empire, about to release his army of evil fire-breathing insects? Tooru stares at the boy’s spiky hair and slanted eyebrows and decides that someone who looks like that has at least a fifty percent chance of being an alien.

“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime,” the stranger says. “My family just moved in next door.” He points over his shoulder in the direction of the house next to Tooru’s. “I was just exploring the forest back there. It’s really cool!” He approaches Tooru and sticks out his hand, keeping the jars in the crook of his arm.

Tooru thinks it over and then grabs Iwaizumi’s hand with a smile. He’s probably not an alien anyway, and even if he is, it would be sort of cool to have an alien friend… he keeps his laser gun at the ready in his other hand, though, because you never know. “I’m Oikawa Tooru! I live here! Nice to meet you, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi’s brows furrow into a scowl. “What? Don’t call me Iwa-chan! I’m Iwaizumi, weren’t you listening?”

“Aww, but Iwaizumi is such a stupid name,” Tooru pouts. “I’m gonna call you Iwa-chan!”

“You’re sort of a jerk, you know that, Oikawa?” asks Iwaizumi, releasing Tooru’s hand.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Iwa-chan!” Tooru says. He grabs Iwaizumi’s hand again and starts dragging him across the lawn, back into the strip of trees.  
“Come on, I’m being a Space Captain exploring the Planet Xerbax. Wanna be my Space Lieutenant? I can show you around all the coolest places!”

Iwaizumi stumbles for a few steps as he tries to prevent himself from being dragged but then regains his balance. “Sure, that sounds fun,” he says. “How come you get to be captain and I’m just a lieutenant, though?”

“I’m a natural captain, Iwa-chan,” brags Tooru. “I’m gonna be great at it, just you watch.”

“Yeah right,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I bet I could be a better captain than you!”

“Is that a mutiny I hear?” Tooru says, putting on a shocked face. “Am I going to have to kick you off the ship?” As Iwaizumi jumps on him and they start wrestling for the Laser Gun of Captain Power, he can’t help smiling, though. He thinks the two of them are going to be great friends.

 

***

Their next beginning, by a lucky coincidence, comes barely a month after their first one. That’s when Tooru happens to walk by the TV when his dad is watching the Japanese national volleyball team play Brazil. Tooru watches the Japanese setter toss to the ace, who slams the ball past three blockers and into the corner of Brazil’s court, and feels his heart skip a beat. His only thought is _I want to do that_. His next thought is _I have to show Iwa-chan!_

He dashes over to the house next door, dancing impatiently from foot to foot until Iwaizumi’s mother opens the door. “Is Iwa-chan- I mean, is Hajime there?” he asks, almost exploding with excitement. 

“Sure, Tooru-chan!” Iwaizumi’s mother says. “Hajime, Tooru-chan wants to see you!” she shouts down the hall, and within seconds there’s a thunder of approaching footsteps as Iwaizumi walks to the door. 

“What is it?” Iwaizumi asks, looking a little disgruntled. Tooru’s not worried, though- he’s already learned that that’s Iwaizumi’s default expression.

“Iwa-chan, come over to my house! I just found the best game ever on TV! It’s called volleyball and it’s _so cool!!!_ We have to learn to play it, Iwa-chan!” 

“Can I go see, mom?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Sure, Hajime,” she says, patting him lovingly on the head. “Just warn me if you’re staying for dinner!”

They dash back to Tooru’s house, where the game is still in progress, and watch every second with wide-eyed attention. When it’s over, they turn to each other and gush about every single aspect of the game, from the blocks to the receives and especially the tosses (Tooru) and spikes (Iwaizumi).  
Tooru knows he wants to be a setter; it’s by far the coolest position. The setter controls the game. Without his tosses, no one else could score any points. Space Captain Oikawa Tooru fades away in his head, replaced by something ten times more awesome- Volleyball Captain Oikawa Tooru.  
Iwaizumi wants to be a spiker. “I don’t know why a boring old position like setter interests you,” he scoffs. “Spikes are so cool! The way you just slam them down and score is really awesome!”

“Hey, setters are even cooler,” argues Tooru. “You couldn’t score without me throwing you the ball. But maybe spiker is best for you. Setters have to _think_ ,” he teases, and covers his head with his arms to deflect the inevitable punch from Iwaizumi. He’s already learned that Iwa-chan hits hard, but it’s worth it to watch the expression on his face get more and more violently angry. Tooru can never resist needling Iwa-chan.

Tooru’s father watches them bounce up and down and declare that they have to learn _right away_ , saying nothing but with an indulgent smile on his face. That night he takes the car out on an errand, but won’t tell Tooru why. 

The next morning when he wakes up, Tooru is delighted to find a brand-new volleyball on the end of his bed, sparkling white. He and Iwaizumi try to teach themselves to play that day, with Tooru trying to mimic the movements he saw on TV, pushing the ball up in the air and towards Iwaizumi’s waiting hands. It fails much more often than it works- Tooru drops the ball onto his face more than a few times and has to try to hold back his tears so a hysterically laughing Iwa-chan won’t see him cry- but eventually, the ball flies perfect and true into the path of Iwaizumi’s swinging arms and straight over the makeshift net they’ve been using. They turn to each other, still feeling the sting of the ball on their palms, and high-five. 

“That was awesome, Iwa-chan!” Tooru cheers, a wide grin spread on his face. “We’re gonna be the best team ever!”

“If we can do it more than once,” Iwaizumi mutters, but he’s smiling too.

Tooru’s first toss ever is to Iwaizumi. It won’t be his last.

 

*** 

Their first day at junior high- they both chose Kitagawa Daiichi, a school that’s both close to them and known for its volleyball team- the first thing they do is find the volleyball club senpai and shove their club applications at the older boys. Tooru bows so deeply that he almost falls over as he says “I’m Oikawa Tooru and I’m a setter! Please take care of me!” 

Iwaizumi elbows him and says “You’re supposed to wait until we actually get accepted to say that,” but the senpai just smile and take their forms.

Tooru is almost vibrating with excitement as they walk to their classroom. “I can’t wait, Iwa-chan!” he babbles. “It’s our first real volleyball team! Well, Little Tykes doesn’t count- there wasn’t a league. But we can win championships now! We can go to Nationals!” There are a lot of things Tooru loves- he loves aliens, milk bread, listening to K-Pop, spending time with Iwa-chan- but he loves being the best just as much. He can’t believe that they’re finally here, one step closer to the top of the world. Even though he’s been tossing to Iwaizumi for four years and counting now, it still feels like the beginning of his real volleyball career.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself yet, dumbass,” Iwaizumi says. “Nationals aren’t a guarantee. We have to work for them. And even if we get there, it won’t necessarily be us winning. There are a lot of good players on the team that we have to surpass first.”

Tooru turns to Iwaizumi, insulted. “Of course I know we have to work for them! I’m going to work harder than anyone! We both are, together. And we’re going to make it onto the team, and then we’re going to make it to Nationals!”

“Is that a promise?” says Iwaizumi.

“It’s a promise,” replies Tooru, holding his hand out for Iwaizumi to grasp. “We’re gonna win, and we’re gonna keep winning, together.”

In the first practice, as Tooru throws his first tosses to Iwaizumi and the other new first-years, he lets himself believe his words fully. They can do this. They can win.

***

Tooru is only partially right. He and Iwaizumi do work harder than anyone. They do make it to the team. They do win, most of the time. But they never make it to Nationals. Twice a year, they come as close as it’s possible to come, and twice a year they throw themselves against the unbreakable rock that is Ushijima Wakatoshi until they’re torn to pieces. Tooru gives everything to volleyball in the hopes that somehow it’ll give him the strength to be able to go up against this stubborn wall ahead of them and smash through it. He gives his time, his energy, his physical and mental health. As he enters his third year and meets Kageyama Tobio, he stops being able to believe the promise he made to Iwa-chan when they entered school. Every second is taken up with looking ahead and behind at the two insurmountable obstacles preventing him from winning, preventing him from even enjoying volleyball anymore. He can’t get rid of the thought that he’s failing Iwa-chan; he promised that the two of them would win together, but he can’t beat Ushijima. He’s not even sure he can keep his spot as a regular anymore, with Kageyama’s skills improving every day. How can he lead Iwa-chan to victory if he can’t even toss to him? Tooru starts to think he’s going to break.

When he finally does one day, almost punching Kageyama in a moment of pure black terror, Iwaizumi is still there for him, to tell him how much of an idiot he’s been and restore clarity to his mind. Tooru realizes that he’s not failing Iwaizumi. The promise he made was never a promise he alone could keep. It was a promise that all of their team had to keep, and as long as he tried as hard as he could he was holding up his end.

They take second place in their final junior high tournament, and Tooru would very much enjoy smashing Ushiwaka-chan’s face in with a volleyball, but he’s a little surprised at how at-peace he feels. Iwaizumi’s still there with him, and they’re going to play together in high school, so nothing’s really over. On top of that, he has the best setter award. It’s not how he wanted to win it, but he officially is the best. That’s a pretty great ego boost.

They move on to high school at Aoba Jousai, where there’s no Kageyama to come up from behind and stifle Tooru. It’s like Kitagawa Daiichi was back in the happy days of his first few years, when it was just him and Iwaizumi climbing the ranks together. There are new friends and new senpai, but overall it’s more of the same. Tooru finds that comforting, although the routine of being absolutely destroyed by Ushiwaka every tournament is one he could really do without. But there is one change. Tooru’s been doing a lot more thinking about Iwaizumi.

He thinks about how Iwaizumi has never left him, how every single time he’s destroyed himself through pouring too much into volleyball Iwaizumi has been there to pick up the pieces. He’s honest with himself and thinks about how annoying he probably is, how many times he’s mocked Iwaizumi and received nothing more for it than a half-hearted smack on the head when most other friends would likely have gotten tired of him and left. He thinks about Iwaizumi’s neverending strength, about his blunt honesty and his simple warmth that isn’t obvious at first but that Tooru can feel radiating through every frown. And then he starts thinking about Iwaizumi’s arms and how good he looks in a tank top, and how his legs flex when he’s jumping up to spike the ball, and oh shit, Tooru thinks he might be a little in love with his best friend. Then he catches himself watching Iwaizumi’s back muscles as he pulls his shirt off after practice, and oh, wow, he’s _definitely_ in love with his best friend and should probably go take a cold shower. Sexual awakenings are a bitch, especially as regards your childhood best friend who is probably straight, and who, come to think of it, probably thinks you’re straight due to your raging army of fangirls. To be fair, Tooru had also thought he was straight until this moment, but now he’s very quickly revising his opinion, because holy shit, Iwa-chan grew up _hot_. He’s not sure how he’s going to get through this.

***

He gets through it by hiding his hopeless crush, mostly. It’s not easy to forget when Iwaizumi is always there next to him, laughing or growling or being generally adorable and perfect- wow, Tooru _really_ loves him- but they have volleyball and school and it’s usually not that difficult to push the crush to the back of his mind and just concentrate on their oncourt partnership and offcourt friendship. 

He manages to avoid the issue for more than a year, and then suddenly it’s the Spring High preliminaries of their third year, and everything has come crashing down even more quickly than it ever did before. He suspected that they might fall to Karasuno in the Spring Highs, especially after their last match and how much work and luck had been involved in defeating them, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. They didn’t even get a chance at Ushiwaka, he thinks bleakly. But still, he meant what he said to Ushiwaka. He’s finally strong enough to face the fact that he lost head-on, and to realize that that doesn’t mean he’ll lose forever. Yes, he’s hurt, and yes, he’ll probably need a few days to lie in his room and cry and a few dozen posters of Tobio-chan’s stupid face to rip up, but he’s not broken. Not this time.

But the one thing that might break him is seeing Iwaizumi cry.

It’s unsettling. He’s always been the one to break down before, and Iwaizumi has always been the one to help him up and get him back on his feet and facing the future again. He didn’t suspect that their roles would be reversed today.

Iwaizumi keeps apologizing as Tooru curls up next to him on his bed that night, rubbing his back gently. Tooru’s not sure if Iwaizumi’s apologizing for crying or for losing- he’s not sure if even Iwaizumi knows. “Shh, it’s okay, Iwa-chan,” he soothes. “You were amazing out there, you always are. It’s not your fault. They had the stronger six today, and that’s okay.”

Iwaizumi hiccups a little and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. He’s still wearing his volleyball warmup jacket, as if it won’t really be over if he doesn’t change out of it. “I should have been stronger. We should have been stronger. I just can’t believe it’s over.”

“It’s not the end, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, holding him a little closer. “Well, it’s the end of high school. But it’s not the end of everything. There will be other chances. Not with Seijou, no, but with each other.” He pauses, realizing something. “You do want to come to university to me and be my ace, right?” He’s been assuming that Iwaizumi would, that they’d stay together like they have for more than ten years now, but that’s a selfish assumption to make, he suddenly realizes. Iwaizumi has a life outside of Tooru, just like Tooru (barely) has a life outside Iwaizumi. It would be perfectly understandable if Iwaizumi had different priorities, different career choices, and wanted to go to a different university to explore those. It would be perfectly normal, most high school friends don’t stay together for university, and he’s been silly to think-

“Of course I do, dumbass,” says Iwaizumi, leaning into Tooru’s hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smiles through his tears; it’s unfair how pretty he looks even while sobbing, given that Tooru turns into an ugly mess every time he cries. “I just… We’ve worked so hard for six years and it’s all been for nothing. Do you ever think Ushijima was right?” he asks suddenly. “If you could do it again, would you go to Shiratorizawa?”

“Of course not,” Tooru says, almost offended that Iwaizumi could ever think that of him. “Why would I ever want to play with Ushibaka-chan? It’s more fun having a strong opponent, anyway. But really,” he says, trying to phrase his answer the way that will get through the best to Iwaizumi, “I’ve never regretted the choice I made to go here. I wouldn’t trade tossing to you for anything. These three years have been wonderful, even if we couldn’t pull it off at the end.” He pauses, wonders if he’s going too far, then decides _fuck it_ and says it anyway. “Iwa-chan, if tossing to you meant I could never win again I’d still choose to toss to you, every single time. Being with you is more important. You know that, right?”

Iwaizumi turns his head to look at Tooru, reddened green eyes going wide. “You sound like you’re about to confess to me or something, dumbass,” he says, but there’s a deeper current of something Tooru can’t read behind the comment.

Tooru takes a deep breath and plunges. “If that’s what you want, Iwa-chan,” he says.

Iwaizumi stiffens in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Well, when I pictured confessing, I thought it would be in a more romantic setting than your dirty bedroom and there would be less snot involved, but yeah. I really like you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi looks at him suspiciously, and for a heartstopping second Tooru thinks that this is it. He’s miscalculated, he’s gone too far, and he’s about to lose the person who matters most to him. “This isn’t just some kind of dumb prank to make me feel better, is it? You’re really serious?”

“Yeah, if you’ll have me,” Tooru mutters, feeling a blush set in on his cheeks.

“Okay, good, I was just checking,” Iwaizumi replies, before pulling Tooru in and kissing him senseless. It’s wet, and Tooru _definitely_ thought that his first kiss with Iwaizumi would involve less snot than this, but somehow it’s not even gross. Iwa-chan is here, and Iwa-chan likes him, and Iwa-chan is kissing him. Those are really the only required ingredients for the perfect first kiss. He feels fireworks going off in his heart. He still doesn’t know what beating Shiratorizawa would have felt like, but even if they’d done it, that feeling of elation would have come in second to this one on the list of best moments of Oikawa Tooru’s life. Sometimes the best beginnings come out of the worst endings, he guesses.

***

“We’re really here, Iwa-chan,” Tooru cries, leaping through the empty apartment like he’s decided to start a new career as a ballet dancer. “Look at it, it’s beautiful!”

“It’s covered in spiderwebs and the kitchen light won’t stop flickering. I think your sense of beauty is a little skewed,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“Hey, I think you’re beautiful, don’t I?” Tooru winks. 

Iwaizumi sighs and doesn’t respond. Tooru grins triumphantly. 

Some people might think that moving in with your boyfriend less than half a year after the two of you get together is a bad idea, but Tooru has always known how to ignore the naysayers. It’s different for him and Iwa-chan, anyway. They’ve been together for ten years, really; they’ve been as close to living together as you can get without actually living together. An apartment in Tokyo, barely affordable and only a few blocks from their college, was the obvious next step for them.

“I can’t believe we’re living together,” Tooru says ecstatically, performing a half-pirouette and nearly dropping the box of stuff he’d been bringing up to the apartment. “Just the two of us, Tooru and Iwa-chan, alone together in the big city! It’ll be amazing!”

“We’re not even alone, dumbass,” Iwaizumi says, but he’s smiling. Tooru knows he’s been looking forward to this just as much as Tooru himself has been. “Sawamura and Sugawara will be here in a few hours. We should finish setting up our half before they get here, or at least bring the rest of the stuff up from the car.” When Tooru and Iwaizumi were looking at apartments, they realized that the most cost-effective thing would be to find two other people to share a two-bedroom apartment with them. After racking their brains, they decided that the best people to ask would be Karasuno’s captain and backup setter. The two seem disgustingly, sappily in love enough to not mind sharing a bedroom, and they’re going to the same school as Tooru and Iwaizumi, so it seems like a perfect situation. As long as they don’t ever talk about the Spring High or Nationals in any form. Well, they can talk about how Tobio-chan and their chibi-chan smashed Shiratorizawa, if they want to. Tooru could hear about that all day.

“Hey, I’m helping,” Tooru says, brandishing the box that he’s still holding.

“I’ve carried at least two-thirds of these boxes up the stairs by myself, slacker. And considering that three-quarters of this stuff is yours, that’s not a fair ratio.” He pokes Tooru in the back of the head as he walks towards the apartment door, but it’s an affectionate poke.

“But Iwa-chan, you’re so much stronger than me,” Tooru says, putting on an exaggerated girly voice. “Shouldn’t the undefeated arm-wrestling champion of Aoba Jousai High have enough muscles to carry a few silly boxes? And anyway,” he adds, “it’s not my fault you barely own any clothes. It just makes my wardrobe look huge by comparison.”

“The clothes, and the makeup, and the random volleyball DVDs, and every bad outer-space movie ever made, and an enormous amount of random merchandise from shows you watched when you were twelve… Why did you even need to bring that?”

“You can never be too prepared. Maybe we’ll need to bribe some anime fans with mint-condition figures or something. Tokyo is a weird place.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “I still can’t believe you.”

“You know you love it,” Tooru says, and something inside him that still hasn’t tired of the fact that he can freely say those words jumps for joy.

“I’d love it more if you actually helped me with these boxes.” 

“I’ll get some cheer bangers and cheer you on if that makes you feel better,” Tooru jokes. It’s ten years on and he’s still not tired of Iwaizumi’s face of increasing frustration.

The clouds clear from Iwaizumi’s face, suddenly. “Hey, I have an idea. Sawamura and Sugawara weren’t supposed to get here until late afternoon at the earliest; they probably just left Miyagi. If you help me get all these boxes out of the car and we set up the bed, we’ll probably have time to, um, christen it before they arrive. Are you up for it?”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “Iwa-chan, are you trying to bribe me with sex?”

“Is it gonna work?”

Tooru drops his box and sprints for the stairs back down to the car. “You know me too damn well,” he shouts over his shoulder. Iwaizumi follows and they race laughing down the stairs. Living together is going to be _fun_. Sawamura and Sugawara might regret agreeing to this, though.

***

The next day is the first day of volleyball practice. Tooru and Iwaizumi fidget outside the gym doors while waiting for them to open up for the first years. Sawamura and Sugawara are there with them, as are an overexcited boy with strangely spiked white and black hair, a tall boy with a sly smile and the worst bedhead Tooru’s ever seen, and someone almost as short as Karasuno’s chibi-chan with light brown hair and an expression that reminds Tooru of a calmer Iwaizumi. They all seem to know each other except Tooru and Iwaizumi; Tooru taps his foot impatiently for a while, waiting for Sawamura or Sugawara to introduce them, but no introductions are forthcoming. (Maybe they’re still feeling awkward about how they accidentally walked in on Tooru and Iwaizumi last night. Tooru really should have listened when Iwaizumi suggested they close the door.) He settles for leaning back against the gym doors and talking quietly with Iwaizumi.

“You look nervous,” Iwaizumi observes.

“Only a little,” Tooru sighs. “I know I’m good, and you know I’m good, Iwa-chan. I just hope this doesn’t end up like Seijou, you know? If I don’t beat Ushiwaka at least once in this life, I might have to sneak into his apartment and smack him in the balls with a pitchfork to even the score.”

“Don’t go worrying over something stupid again, dumbass,” Iwaizumi mutters. He pulls Tooru close and kisses his cheek. Tooru very kindly doesn’t point out how far Iwaizumi has to stretch to do that. “Yeah, it’s a new beginning, and beginnings are scary. But that’s never stopped you before.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Tooru says. 

“And remember, you’re still tossing to me. You’d rather have that than winning, right?” Iwaizumi’s tone is mocking, but his eyes are sparkling. 

“I would and you know it. Stop using my own words against me, it’s totally unfair,” protests Tooru. 

“Anyway, this team looks strong. See that guy with the weird hair?” Iwaizumi points.

“Which one?” The two are currently engaged in some conversation that appears to consist of about thirty percent words and seventy percent random sound effects, while the brunette watches them in resignation. 

“White. Isn’t he one of the top five aces from our year? I think I remember seeing him in one of your magazines.”

Tooru thinks back- he does think he remembers seeing that laughing face in a color spread or two. “Oh wow, I get to toss to one of the top five aces _and_ you? I take everything back, this is going to be incredible. We’re really going to win, Iwa-chan. I promise. And if we don’t, well, it won’t be for lack of trying.”

***

They don’t win every time, obviously. Tooru never expected that; even when your team is clearly the best on the court, the element of luck is so prevalent in the sport that you can never say who will win for sure. But they do better than Tooru ever dreamed. In their eight university tournaments, they make it to Nationals four times, win twice, and collect a healthy number of wins over Ushijima to help balance out their losses. Tooru feels like he finally kept the promise that he made to Iwa-chan and kept making throughout their years together. He and Iwaizumi reach the top of the world together, and find that it’s even better for having the other one there.

But nothing lasts forever. All too soon it’s almost graduation, and Tooru is being scouted for the national team, and Iwaizumi isn’t. They both expected that, honestly. They long ago admitted to themselves and each other that while Iwaizumi is a fantastic spiker and the best ace anyone could hope to have, there are far more spikers on his level than there are setters on Tooru’s. Iwaizumi was never planning to go pro with volleyball, anyway; he’s almost done with his undergraduate degree in sports medicine and plans to one day be the national team’s doctor if the position opens up. None of that makes it hurt any less to watch the scouts bypass Iwaizumi completely as they rush to Tooru. Everyone should realize how wonderful Iwaizumi is, Tooru thinks.

The fact remains that he’s tossed his last toss to Iwaizumi in an official match. Even though it was a toss that won them Nationals, it’s still something that makes him cringe to think about. The night before the first official practice of the new national team- the only new members added this year were Tooru’s owl-headed teammate Bokuto, Tooru himself, and _Ushiwaka-chan_ , much to Tooru’s dismay- Tooru and Iwaizumi sit on the couch and try to distract themselves. Iwaizumi’s letting Tooru watch his favorite show, a psuedoscientific mess of fake evidence and contradictory theories arguing for the existence of aliens that shaped civilization. As a science major, Iwaizumi usually gets ragingly mad when the show contradicts basic principles of biology, but he’s staying calm tonight, only hissing bitter comments under his breath about every three minutes. Tooru appreciates it, but it’s hard to let the show distract him tonight.

“Hey, idiot, I can feel you worrying,” says Iwaizumi, He slides over to the right of the couch and pulls Tooru’s head down onto his lap. 

Tooru lets himself be manhandled, halfheartedly mumbling, “Don’t pull my hair, Iwa-chan, you brute.” He relaxes into Iwaizumi’s warmth, feeling slightly calmer. 

“Stop thinking about tomorrow,” Iwaizumi commands. “It’s going to be fine. Pay attention to the stupid fucking alien show; at least one of us should be getting some enjoyment out of that.”

Tooru doesn’t respond to that. “Did you know I’ve never played a single game without you, Iwa-chan?” he asks instead. “You’ve played without me, when my knee was messed up, but you never missed any games that I didn’t miss too.”

“You don’t need me to succeed, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says gruffly, running his hands through Tooru’s hair. “You never have.”

“Mmmm,” Tooru hums. “I want you, though.”

“And I’ll still be here for you, every day. Just wait and see.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tooru asks, but Iwaizumi refuses to answer.

The next morning, all the worries seem less pressing somehow. Tooru strides into the practice complex like he owns the place. If everything goes as planned, he’ll be captain by the time the next Olympics starts. He knows he can do this. Even if he has to work with Ushiwaka-chan to do it.  
He introduces himself confidently with a wink and a smile to the team’s manager and assistants and bows respectfully to the coach. “I’m Oikawa Tooru and I’m a setter. Please take care of me,” he says as he bows, thinking _At least I said it to the right person this time, Iwa-chan._

“Welcome, Oikawa-san,” says the coach. “We’re glad to have you on the team this year.”

“I’m honored to be invited,” replies Tooru.

The team meets in the locker room for introductions. Ushijima eyes Tooru like a prize that he’s finally won and seems a little _too_ excited to be working with him at last, but Tooru figures that that’s better than enmity and tries to treat him with a distant cordiality. The other members of the team seem like the type of people he’ll get along with. He’s already building ideas for how to accommodate their playing styles with his toss in his head, even though he knows he’s not likely to be named official setter for a while. They get dressed and head out into the gym to warm up- and Tooru freezes as he sees a crowd in the bleachers.

Iwaizumi’s at the head of the crowd, holding- oh my god, are those Tooru’s old Japanese national team cheer bangers that he’s had since he was eight? He didn’t know that Iwaizumi even knew about those. Behind him is the rest of their college team, as well as what looks like most of the Seijou team, three-quarters or more of the unofficial Oikawa Tooru Fan Club, and even some people he hasn’t seen since Kitagawa Daiichi. When they see him, they all burst out into cheers and stamp their feet. “GOOO OIKAWA!” “YOU CAN DO IT!” “PUSH IT, OIKAWA!”

“Are these yours?” the coach asks him, looking half-annoyed and half-amused.

Tooru can barely answer at first through a building lump in his throat. It must have taken Iwa-chan so much work to organize this, just to get Tooru over some momentary anxiety. He really does have the best boyfriend in the world. “I’m sorry, I had no idea that they were planning this- my boyfriend-” he explains awkwardly, gesturing at the crowd.

The coach smiles. “It’s all right, just tell them not to make a habit out of it,” he says, and claps Tooru on the shoulder. “We start warmups with five laps around the gym, so I suggest you get running.”

Much of the cheer section has to leave after the first few hours of practice, but a few, including Iwaizumi, stay the whole time. Iwaizumi entertains himself by making up increasingly creative and sarcastic cheers, seeing if he can make Tooru blush and embarrass him in front of his entire team. Tooru finds he doesn’t mind at all. By the time practice lets out for dinner, he feels like he’s floating on a cloud. He’s achieved his childhood dream, and Iwaizumi is going to be there beside him every step of the way. Things couldn’t possibly get better.

***

The ball flies perfectly out of Tooru’s hands like it’s magnetically guided to Ushiwaka’s waiting hand. It soars past the stretching fingers of the opposing side’s blockers, the whistle blows, and that’s it. The Japanese National Volleyball Team has officially won the Olympics. 

They did it.

They won.

Tooru can’t believe it for a second. Everything is slow-motion and silent as he returns to the floor from his toss and watches the exhaustion on his teammates’ face turn to exultation. Then everything speeds up again and they’re all running ecstatically around the court, trying to find people to hug, needing to touch each other, to feel the sweat on their bodies and convince themselves that this is really real. Tooru can feel the tears running down his face, mixed with the sweat, and he can hear huge sobs ripping their way out of his chest. “We did it, Ushiwaka-chan,” he cries, jumping onto Ushijima and clinging to him like a koala on a perplexed and uncomfortable tree. Ushijima pats his back a few times, a tiny, content smile on his face. It’s the most emotional Tooru has seen him after three years of playing on the same team. 

“We did it, Oikawa,” Ushijima agrees. “I told you the place where I was was the strongest.”

“Don’t bring that up again,” Tooru says. “That was high school, and you were wrong anyway.” But it doesn’t diminish his grin one bit.

He untangles himself from Ushiwaka and tries to find someone else to hug. He careens into Kageyama and Hinata, who are already entwined in a very passionate kiss, and decides to maybe let that one wait until later. He does need to thank Tobio-chan though, he thinks- it was thanks to his amazing precision toss that they won the second set. (He and Kageyama have learned how to share the setter position and the team- Tooru finally came to the belated realization that it was better to win together than to drag the team down through fighting. He still hasn’t taught Kageyama that jump serve, though. There are limits.)

He turns around on the court, trying to find someone else to hug, when a sturdy shape comes barreling into him and nearly knocks him over. He’d know that bear hug anywhere. He squirms around in Iwaizumi’s grasp until he’s facing him and for a moment loses the ability to speak. Iwaizumi’s face is radiant, jubilant. He’s never seen anything so beautiful. 

“You did it,” says Iwaizumi, and then Tooru doesn’t need to speak, because Iwaizumi’s lips are crushing his. He pulls Iwaizumi as close to him as he can, drinking in his essence. He couldn’t be too close to Iwaizumi in this moment. He wants to share the victory.

“ _We did it_ , Iwa-chan,” he says through his still-flowing tears.

“No, this was all on you, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says- tears are leaking out of his eyes, too, although his face is so screwed up in a grin that it’s hard to tell. “I just helped patch you guys up.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Tooru sobs. “I wouldn’t be anywhere without you.”

Iwaizumi pulls back from him just enough to stare at his face and run his calloused thumb over Tooru’s lips. “Your real smile is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you know,” he says. “No matter how often I get to see it.”

Tooru tries to retort, “So romantic, Iwa-chan,” but he can’t get the words out, because he just won the Olympics and his boyfriend is _so romantic_.

“What are you even going to do now?” Iwaizumi teases. “You’ve won the Olympics, what’s left? Are you going to Tokyo Disneyland?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan, this is just the beginning,” Tooru chokes out. “I have a crown to maintain now.”

“You’ve always been a king, Tooru,” says Iwaizumi, and Tooru gasps at hearing his given name; no matter how long they’ve been going out, hearing his first name is a rare occasion. He wonders if Iwa-chan is actually trying to cause his heart to give out from too many good things. “I’m so proud of you.”  
“I love you, Hajime.”

“You’re so gross when you cry, you know that?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Iwa-chan. Only one of us here is an Olympic champion.”

They cling to each other until the medal ceremony. Tooru feels a brief stab of reluctance to let go of Iwaizumi, but he walks over eagerly to the rest of the team, anyway. Now comes the fun part- receiving adulation from millions of adoring fans. He sort of wishes the adulation could hold off until he wasn’t ugly-crying, but he can deal with that. He needs the medal, anyway. He has big plans for that medal.

***

“Did you seriously have to blindfold me, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi grumbles. It’s a month later and the two of them are home in Miyagi to visit their friends and family and give a talk at Aoba Jousai about what being a champion feels like. 

“Yes, I have to blindfold you, or it’ll spoil the surprise!” Tooru says. “Come on, Iwa-chan, just cooperate for once!”

He leads Iwaizumi across the grass of Tooru’s backyard and over to the area he’s prepared, next to a very specific bush. “Okay, I’m taking the blindfold off now,” he says, and unties the strip of cloth across Iwaizumi’s eyes. There’s a table set up on the grass next to the bush, covered in Tooru’s mother’s best tablecloth and set up with a veritable feast.

“What’s all this?” says Iwaizumi, eyebrows raising in suspicion. 

Tooru feels shy, all of a sudden. He intertwines his hands behind his back. “I don’t know if you remember, but this is the spot where we met,” he says.

“Of course I remember,” Iwaizumi says. “You wouldn’t let me be Space Captain and you started calling me Iwa-chan for no reason. You always were shitty, even that young.”

“I had a reason! Like I said, Iwaizumi’s a stupid name!” he protests.

“Don’t tell my mom that,” Iwaizumi mutters with a crooked smile.

“It’s only a stupid name for you,” Tooru says. “It’s perfect for your mom. Did I ever tell you I thought you were an alien when I first saw you?” he suddenly remembers.

“You never mentioned it,” says Iwaizumi, laughing. “You were really a dumb kid, weren’t you?”

“Just imaginative,” Tooru protests. “But anyway, I thought we could have dinner out here tonight! I made all your favorites!”

“You _cooked_?” says Iwaizumi, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I ordered them.”

“Thank God,” Iwaizumi sighs in relief. “Any day in which I don’t have to pretend to enjoy your cooking is a good day.”

“You’re so rude, Iwa-chan,” says Tooru. “Let’s just eat.”

They’re halfway through the meal when Iwaizumi suddenly stops eating and looks at Tooru with a penetrating gaze. “Hey, Oikawa, are you planning something weird?” he asks, suspicious.

“Well, it depends on what you mean by weird,” Tooru says, starting to blush. He was going to wait until the end of the meal, but if he’s been found out, he may as well just go for it now. He fumbles in his pocket until he finds a small box, pulls it off, and drops to one knee in the grass. “Iwaizumi Hajime,” he begins, his throat suddenly feeling dry, “We’ve been through a lot together-”

“Oh my God,” says Iwaizumi, hands jumping to his heart. “Oh my _God_ , are you shitting me right now, Oikawa Tooru, are you seriously about to propose to me in your backyard over takeout agedashi tofu, you massive dork?”

“Don’t interrupt me, Iwa-chan, I spent three hours deciding what to say,” says Tooru, a grin breaking out on his face. “As I was saying, we’ve been through a lot together. I honestly don’t know how you’ve put up with me this long- I’m self-centered and egotistical and petty and provocative and overall annoying. I think that by staying with me you’ve proven that you’re a much better man than I’ll ever be. And you are, Iwaizumi, no matter what I sometimes say. You’re brave, and kind, and so strong, and every time I’ve been an idiot you’ve been there to point me back to the right path. I love you so much. If you wouldn’t mind putting up with me for the rest of your life… Iwaizumi Hajime, will you marry me?” He opens the box to reveal the rings he’s had made; there are two of them, burning a bright silver that catch the sunset’s rays. Then he wipes his nose on his sleeve- in the surprise of the century, Oikawa Tooru can’t make it through proposing to his boyfriend without crying.

Iwaizumi’s still frozen silent in the twilight, just like he was when Tooru confessed all those years ago, but this time Tooru’s not scared. He knows what Iwaizumi’s answer will be. They’re already forever. This will just confirm it.

“Of course I’ll marry you, idiot,” Iwaizumi says, dropping down on his knees as well. Tooru slides one of the rings on Iwaizumi’s finger and then hands the other one to Iwaizumi with a significant look. “What, am I supposed to wear two identical rings?” Iwaizumi asks, rolling his eyes.

“You have to put it on me, idiot,” says Tooru.

“Oh, right, I knew that,” says Iwaizumi, and then the cold metal is slipping onto his finger and all is more right with the world than it has ever been.

“I know we can’t get married here yet,” says Tooru, “but the team is traveling to England for a friendly next month. I looked it up and you can get married in England if you have eight days of residency, and we’re staying that long. I thought maybe we could do it there, if you wanted.”

“That sounds perfect,” Iwaizumi says, and draws him into a kiss.

“Oh, and I didn’t tell you the best part,” Tooru says. “I had the rings made from my medal. It turns out gold medals are all silver on the inside nowadays, but the rings are still pretty as silver, don’t you think?”

“You seriously melted down your medal to make us engagement rings?” Iwaizumi asks incredulously. 

Tooru shrugs. “I’ll get another one in four years,” he says. “And I still have the leftover metal. It doesn’t take a lot to make rings.”

“You are such a sap, Oikawa,” says Iwaizumi. “I can’t believe I said yes.”

“It’s not too late to take it back, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m your fiance, don’t you think it’s time to start calling me something other than Iwa-chan?”

“Aww, but that would be breaking tradition,” Tooru pouts. “Although, now that I think about it, if one of us takes the other’s name we’ll either have two Iwa-chans or no Iwa-chans. That’s gonna be a problem.”

“I think Tooru and Hajime will work just fine, don’t you?” says Iwaizumi- no, _Hajime._

“I think so, Hajime,” says Tooru, and snuggles up against Iwa-chan in the grass. The stars are rising. He wonders if he can see the planet Xerbax if he looks far enough.

***

October in England isn’t quite as idyllic as Tooru pictured it when he and Hajime decided to have an outdoor wedding. Maybe he was thinking of New England, honestly, because he was expecting red leaves and crisp air, and instead what he got was fog. Lots of fog. But the scenery’s beauty would have paled in comparison to the man next to him anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

The pastor reads the vows. They’d managed to find someone who spoke Japanese, luckily. Hajime squeezes Tooru’s hands every couple of sentences; Tooru thinks that Hajime is nervous, which is just adorable. Tooru is a little scared himself, but he keeps sneaking glances at his best man Suga, whose mere presence is calming. Hajime is less lucky; Daichi is a wonderful friend and the perfect best man, but his face can be less than soothing at times. He keeps glaring at Hajime like he thinks Hajime is going to run away and desert Tooru at the altar. It doesn’t seem to be helping Hajime’s nerves at all.

Finally it’s their turn to read the vows. Tooru drafted a half-hour-long romantic declaration of eternal love, but that met with _someone’s_ disapproval. Instead, they’re using a set of vows written by Suga for them, “because maybe if you use these you two will see the light and stop bickering,” Suga said exasperatedly. “Please just remember that who you’re marrying is the important part.”

Tooru gets to start. “I, Oikawa Tooru, take you, Iwaizumi Hajime, to be my lawfully wedded husband,” he begins. “I vow to support you wherever your path may take you, to remind you where that path is when you forget, and to love you unconditionally for all of my days. I will always be there for you, whatever you need and whenever you need it, and I know that you will do the same for me.” He actually doesn’t tear up this time, which he counts as a minor miracle. He mostly chalks it up to the fact that Hajime’s face, which was an interesting shade of light green, now has a blush competing fiercely with the green, and he’s wondering which color will win.

Hajime repeats the vows, only stumbling over a few words, and then the pastor is telling them to kiss, and the two of them are really, truly, married.

Their kiss is definitely one for the ages. Hajime has apparently gotten over his nausea, because he’s kissing Tooru as if this is the only kiss they ever get to have. Tooru dips Hajime like a bride, smiling into the kiss about how pissed Hajime is probably going to be about that if they ever come up for air. He can hear wolf-whistles from the crowd. The rest of the volleyball team is clearly enjoying the show.

Hajime shoves Tooru a little when they disengage from the kiss. “Don’t dip me, asshole,” he says, but he’s smiling.

“Are those really your first words to me as my husband, Hajime?” Tooru asks. 

“Calling you an asshole? Definitely. I wouldn’t change a thing. Someone needs to remind you, because your millions of fans won’t.”

Tooru just smiles like he’s going to burst. He wants to squeal, let off a little noise to relieve some of the building pressure of happiness inside him, but he’s still technically at the altar and he’s fairly sure his teammates would laugh at him. Instead, he stares at his boyfriend-his _husband_ \- and ponders just how lucky he is that Iwaizumi Hajime loves him. Throughout his life, he keeps thinking that he’s as happy as he’ll ever be- when he won his first match in middle school, when Hajime confessed to him, when he won nationals, when he kissed Hajime on the court amid the Japanese national anthem at the Olympics. He thinks it again, now. But he’s starting to wonder whether maybe it doesn’t work like that. Maybe his love for Hajime will only keep growing. Maybe every day with Hajime is going to the beginning of the happiest time of his life from now on. Tooru looks at Hajime’s face, a little grumpy and a little green, but still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and grins even wider. This is his favorite beginning yet.


	2. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi wakes up with a cold and Oikawa takes it upon himself to take care of his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, welcome back to Iwaoi hell! Today's prompt was supposed to be the angst prompt but... this is not angst... I'm very sorry, I'm a fluffy nerd. I hope you all enjoy anyway! This is set in the same universe as chapter 1, during Iwaizumi and Oikawa's college days, when they live with Daichi and Suga and they all play on the same team as Bokuto, Kuroo, and Yaku, because I honestly want to shove in as many characters as possible. I hope you all enjoy!  
> This chapter is dedicated to [nishinoikawa](http://nishinoikawa.tumblr.com)! Most of the ideas for this chapter came out of our amazing headcanoning session. Thanks Emily <3

Practically speaking, this is the best time of the year to be sick. It’s close to the middle of the semester, so there are no upcoming tests, and the volleyball team has just finished a tournament, so practice is much lower-key than usual. That doesn’t mean Hajime is thrilled when he wakes up one morning to a throat so sore he can barely swallow and a lethargy in his limbs that makes them feel like they’re made of bricks.

His alarm is beeping, he registers dimly through the fog of sleep and sickness that’s enveloping him. He tries to raise an arm to slap the alarm off but only manages to get it a few inches off the bed before it flops back down. 

“Iwa-chan, turn it off,” Oikawa moans beside him. “I don’t have class for three more hours. Go get ready for school and let me sleeeeeeeep.”

Hajime can feel Oikawa’s voice slicing into his temples, giving him a pounding headache. He groans softly but doesn’t make any other move.

“Come onnnn, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, kicking Hajime lightly in the shin. “All right, fine, I’ll do it if you’re that lazy.” He crawls over Hajime on his way to turn off the alarm, pausing midway, his chest crushing Hajime’s shoulder. “You feel hot…” He sits up on his heels and presses his hand on Hajime’s forehead. Hajime flinches- Oikawa has terrible circulation so his hands are usually cold, but today they feel like blocks of ice. Oikawa springs out of bed in a panic. “Oh my god, you’re burning up! What do you want me to do? Should I call the hospital? Should I-”

“Just shut up for a second,” Hajime says weakly. He loves Oikawa’s voice usually, its smooth rich tone in all its variations, but this morning its constant babble is mingling with the fog in his head and making it impossible to think. Oikawa quiets, complying with his requests for once in his life, and Hajime runs through his list of symptoms mentally. Sore throat, headache, lethargy, fever… It’s probably not more than the flu at the worst. “I’m okay,” he says thickly, reaching over to turn the alarm off and missing. “It’s just a cold.” He tries again and again, managing to actually turn the alarm off on the third attempt. “Go back to sleep, Oikawa. I’ll just go get ready…” he manages to sit up, every muscle in his body screaming with the effort.

“Oh no you don’t,” Oikawa says firmly, pressing on his shoulders and lowering him back down onto the bed. “You’re not going anywhere with a fever like that. I’ll email your professors for you and tell them what’s happening. You have Anatomy and Microbio today, right?”

“Don’t be stupid, I am perfectly… fine…” Hajime says, and then sneezes.

Oikawa jerks backwards, horrified. “You _sneezed on me_ ,” he says, desperately wiping his face with his sleeve.

“Sorry,” mutters Hajime. “It’s not like I could cover my face, since you were pinning down my arms.”

“Okay, you’re clearly not fine at all,” says Oikawa, still wiping his face. “I’m gonna go get the thermometer and take your temperature, and then I’m gonna email your professors and text Yaku so he can lend you his notes. He’s in both of those, right?”

Hajime nods. It’s helpful to have a friend on the pre-med track. “I don’t want to miss class, though,” he argues weakly.

“Iwa-chan, what do you always tell me? When you’re sick, you should rest instead of making it worse. If I woke up with a fever, would you let me go to practice?”

“No,” Hajime admits. He’s had to stop him before, on all the days that Oikawa has decided that wrecking his health would be worth it just to improve his volleyball skills. Still, it feels different when it’s Hajime who’s the sick one. He’s taken care of Oikawa far more often over the years than he’s had to take care of himself.

“So it’s settled, then. Just lie there in bed while I go get the thermometer, and then I’ll figure out if Suga-chan has any cold medicine. He probably does, he has everything. What do you feel besides feverish?”

Hajime lists off his symptoms, and Oikawa listens with nervous concentration. Hajime finds it a little sweet that Oikawa’s so worried, even though there’s really nothing to be worried about.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” Oikawa says, and dashes off somewhere. Hajime drifts off at some point in the minute or two in which Oikawa is gone, because the next thing he knows the other boy is shaking him awake again.

“Hey, Iwa-chan, I’m just gonna take your temperature now.” Hajime feels something slide under his tongue and gives a thumbs-up to show that he actually is awake.

After a minute, Oikawa takes it out again and examines it. “38.9! That’s so high! Are you sure I don’t need to call the hospital?”

“That’s not that high,” Hajime rasps through his sore throat. “Just find some pain medicine with a fever reducer.” 

“I can do that,” says Oikawa earnestly. “You go back to sleep now, okay? I’ll get you medicine and food for when you wake up.”

Hajime wants to protest that this doesn’t seem fair, that Oikawa doesn’t have class for three hours and that he should get some more rest, he was up really late again last night watching videos of Ushiwaka’s college team even though Hajime warned him that it was a bad idea, but… the bed is warm, and sleep is pulling at him like an iron weight, and somehow he drifts off again before he can get any of the words out.

When he wakes up again, it’s almost noon. Oikawa’s class started an hour ago, and Daichi and Suga both have class at this hour as well, so he’s alone in the apartment. He sits up and stretches, still feeling stiff, but slightly better. Sleep has at least worked to lessen his pounding headache.

There’s a glass of orange juice and a glass of ginger ale on the bedside table, as well as a jumbled assortment of bottles and boxes of pills. Oikawa must have ransacked Suga’s medicine stash, Hajime thinks wryly. There’s also a note in Oikawa’s neat and curvy handwriting; it reads _I’ll be back between classes to check on you and make you lunch. Don’t even think about going to practice. Love you, Tooru._ There are a hilarious number of hearts drawn around the edges of the notes, which pulls the corners of Hajime’s mouth up into a smile. His boyfriend is so sappy it’s unbelievable. And adorable. 

Hajime decides that he probably shouldn’t spend all day in bed. After looking through the stash of pills that Oikawa found for him, he grabs some Tylenol and downs it with a gulp of the ginger ale. It’s gone a little flat but still feels good against his burning throat. He has a few sips- it’s important to stay hydrated when you’re sick- then sighs and stands up to get ready for the day.

Half an hour later, he is showered, dressed, and completely out of energy. Rather than making himself lunch and getting started on some of the homework for the classes he’s missing, as he’d been planning to do, he collapses on the couch, feeling like his brain has been stuffed with cotton. That’s how Oikawa finds him after the latter bounds through the door.

“Awwww, Iwa-chan,” he says sympathetically when he sees Hajime’s position. 

Hajime squeezes out a “hey” from his sore throat.

Oikawa perches on the section of couch that’s not currently occupied by his boyfriend. “Still not feeling well?” he asks, leaning down to peck Hajime on the forehead. He recoils- “wow, you’re still hot.”

“Don’t touch me, dumbass, you’ll get sick,” Hajime warns scratchily.

“We share a bed and you sneezed on me.” Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “Which was one of the top five grossest things to ever happen to me and I had to stay in the shower for ten minutes longer than usual, by the way. I’ve already accepted my fate.”

“It still wasn’t my fault,” grumbles Hajime. 

“Did you take the pills I left?” asks Oikawa. “Are you drinking plenty of fluids?” He sounds uncannily like Oikawa’s mother used to when one of them was sick, thinks Hajime.

“I left the drinks in the other room,” Hajime recalls. “I went to shower and forgot about them.”

Oikawa holds up one finger. “Be right back.” When he returns, it’s with not only a drink in each hand, but also at least three blankets draped around his shoulders. He puts the drinks on the coffee table and wraps the blankets one by one around Hajime. “Here you go,” he says, smiling. “You want lunch?”

“Please don’t try to cook for me,” Hajime half-says, half-whispers. He’s learned that there are tricks to living full-time with Oikawa, rules that he has to live by to make their life easy and smooth. Rule one is _Never let Oikawa in the kitchen._

“I’ll just make instant ramen, don’t worry,” says Oikawa. “Nothing fancy. How much can you mess that up?”

He somehow manages to mess it up. Hajime watches through half-open eyes as the first pot of ramen boils over and spills the noodles everywhere and as Oikawa drops the entire flavoring packet into the second attempt, reaches into the boiling water to pull it out, and burns his hand.

“Wow, you really must be sick, Iwa-chan,” observes Oikawa brightly as he runs cold water over his burnt fingers. “Usually you would have yelled at me ten times by now. It’s sort of refreshing, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m saving it up for when I’m better,” replies Hajime. He does feel a little better, actually- he thinks the pain relievers are kicking in, because everything suddenly feels one notch less terrible than it did. The clouds inside his head seem to be clearing, a little, making way for annoyed fondness. “I can’t believe you stuck your fingers in a pot of boiling water, dumbass.”

“I took them out right away, and at least it was my left hand,” replies Oikawa. “It doesn’t look like it’s even going to blister. I should be fine for volleyball.”

Hajime rolls his eyes a little- of course Oikawa would only think about volleyball.

“Maybe third time will be the charm with the ramen, anyway,” Oikawa continues.

It is, somehow. When Oikawa delivers the bowl of ramen to Hajime’s lap, along with a glass of water- because apparently you can never have too much choice in liquids- he’s relieved to find that it tastes about as good as instant ramen ever can. “Thanks,” he says wholeheartedly, slurping up a few noodles.

“It’s the least I can do,” says Oikawa, smiling that movie star smile. Hajime’s seen that expression enough to know how rehearsed it is, but he doesn’t take it personally- Oikawa spends so much time with a manufactured smile on that it’s what he slips into automatically unless he’s thinking about it. Hajime knows that the emotion behind the smile is as genuine as ever, and that’s what matters. “I need to get my ace back to normal as fast as I can, don’t I?”

“Hopefully this’ll only last a few days,” says Hajime, taking another bite of noodle.

“I hope so too,” says Oikawa, shuddering a little. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t like you being this quiet. It’s like you’re only partway here.”

“Is that an insult?” asks Hajime. “Don’t insult me when I’m sick, Shittykawa.”

“No, not at all!” says Oikawa hurriedly. “I just like it better when you’re healthy. Even if you constantly torment me.”

“I only torment you when you deserve it,” Hajime says. He’s interrupted by a sneeze, then continues, “You just happen to deserve it constantly.”

“You’re so cruel to me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa moans, splaying himself across the sofa. “Worst boyfriend ever.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” says Hajime, rolling his eyes. “Go eat your ramen, you have class in half an hour.”

Oikawa eats his ramen and heads back out to class, but not before bringing Hajime his laptop and setting up some sort of sappy chick flick on the television. “Come on, Iwa-chan, you know you love this one,” he winks when Hajime protests at his choice of movie. He might be right, but Hajime won’t let him know that. 

“Got everything you need?” Oikawa asks on his way out the door. Hajime nods- Oikawa’s brought over more or less anything he could possibly want and put it on the table for him. He really does have a good boyfriend. “All right, I’ll see you after practice! Don’t have too much fun without me!~” He blows Hajime a kiss and heads out the door.

The following afternoon is honestly one of the dullest of Hajime’s life. He thinks wryly about how exhausted he’s been lately, after the stress of their most recent volleyball tournament, and what he would have given for a day off. The problem with a sick day, though, is that no matter how much you think you’re going to enjoy it, being sick means you enjoy it a lot less. Hajime tries to do some homework in a desultory manner, then just surfs the Internet and tries to pay attention to his movie, but he can’t concentrate on anything. Despite the medicine taking the edge off, his head is still throbbing like a drum, and his throat squeezes painfully every time he swallows. He’s alternating between shivering so hard he thinks he might crack a tooth from all the chattering and feeling like his blood is boiling. Also, his sneezes are increasing in frequency. Overall, it’s a miserable experience. Eventually, he closes his laptop and settles for staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about anything. He must succeed, because eventually he drifts off again to the background noise of the DVD menu screen playing snippets of the movie’s theme song on repeat. 

When he comes back to consciousness, the first thing he’s aware of is voices- a lot of them, all familiar, and a lot of shuffling feet too. The DVD menu has stopped playing, but there’s a faint strain of video game music in the background and some scattered beeping too.

“Don’t use the blender, you’ll wake him up!”

“But we have to use the blender, how else are we supposed to make smoothies?”

“What did you even put in there? Oh my god, is that _garlic_?”

“Garlic is really healthy for you! It’s full of antioxidants!”

“But with blueberries and kale? And what is that, uncooked quinoa? Wait, did you even _peel_ that garlic?”

“It’s a health smoothie! We invented it for him!”

“Antioxidants, man!”

“You are _not_ feeding that to my boyfriend.”

“Come on, bro, we went shopping specially for it!”

“No, we went shopping for Suga’s soup, and you guys ran off and threw random ingredients into the cart without telling us what they were for. I’m regretting using my food budget for this.”

“Come on, Daichi, it’s for a good cause!”

“All of you _shut up_ , do you want to wake him up?”

“I’m up, I’m up,” says Hajime groggily, rubbing his eyes. He does a double take as he sits up to see the entire first-year contingent of the volleyball team gathered in his kitchen. Daichi and Suga are over at the stove, Suga stirring a big pot out of which is wafting fragrant steam and Daichi chopping vegetables for him. Kuroo and Bokuto are gathered around a blender which is filled with a perplexing number of ingredients, including what Hajime really hopes isn’t an entire raw egg. Oikawa appears to be trying to drag Kuroo and Bokuto away from said blender, while Yaku tries to frantically shush all of them.

“Oh, sorry,” Yaku says immediately, shrugging at the scene, which has gone still now that Hajime’s made his consciousness known. “I tried to stop them.”

“Oh, if you’re awake, then I can-” Kuroo takes advantage of the momentary silence to press the “start” button on the blender. The kitchen fills with a loud whirr and some unpleasant crunching noises. Hajime wonders if that’s the eggshell cracking. He makes a mental note never to eat anything Kuroo or Bokuto tries to feed him. They’ve taken the average teenage boy’s lack of discrimination in food to a new level.

Oikawa shrieks something that sounds vaguely like “ _Stop trying to poison Iwa-chan!_ ” over the noise of the blender and smacks at Kuroo’s hand until he turns it off with a roll of his eyes and a “Chill, Oikawa.”

“What are you doing here?” Hajime asks, his brain still feeling slow and confused from sleep and his cold. Daichi, Suga, and Oikawa should all be here, of course, but the others…

“I thought you might be lonely and bored after spending all day alone, so I asked them to come spend the evening with us!” says Oikawa. There’s his genuine grin at last, Hajime thinks. 

“Not like we had anything else to do on a Friday night,” shrugs Yaku. 

“Lev, Akaashi, and Kenma were all busy?” Hajime asks wryly. Kuroo and Bokuto both love to party, but he knows they’d rather spend the evening in with their significant others than out clubbing, and Yaku makes it a point to stay at least fifty feet away from clubs at all times.

“Actually, Kenma’s behind you,” says Kuroo, pointing. Hajime looks over the back of the couch to see Kenma tapping away on their DS- ah, so that’s where the video game music was coming from. Kenma looks up from their game, gives Hajime a small smile and a wave, then ducks their head back down. “We had plans, but they didn’t mind coming here instead.”

“Daichi and Suga are making us chicken soup,” says Oikawa happily. 

“It’s my mom’s recipe,” says Suga from the stove. “She used to make it for me whenever I was sick.”

“I brought some licorice root tea,” says Yaku. “It’s supposed to help with sore throats.”

“And Kuroo and Bokuto… tried their best,” says Oikawa, looking with disgust at the blender.

“Hey, this is gonna be delicious, just watch,” says Bokuto defiantly. 

“We also brought some movies and Mario Kart,” Kuroo offers. “We figured we could just spend an evening in so you didn’t have to be bored.”

“You guys didn’t have to do any of this,” says Hajime gruffly. “It’s not like I’m dying or anything.”

“We missed our ace,” replies Daichi simply.

“It’s not the same at practice without you,” chimes in Suga.

“Yeah, it’s a lot less painful,” mutters Oikawa, who’s then promptly thumped in the kidney by Yaku.

“You want pain? I can give you pain,” Yaku threatens.

“I’d rather have Iwa-chan hit me,” Oikawa sulks. “Boyfriend privileges.”

The lump in Hajime’s throat is definitely only because of the cold. Yeah, definitely.

Kuroo turns the blender back on, finishing off what is rapidly becoming the smoothie from hell. He pours it into a glass proudly; it’s a bizarre greenish-blue color that Hajime honestly doesn’t think he’s ever seen in his life before, and it’s full of _chunks_. “All right, one Kuroo and Bokuto creation coming right up!” he announces, and begins his trek to the couch.

“Please, Kuroo, if you ever loved me, throw that out right now,” Oikawa begs, grabbing his arm.

“Who says I love you?” asks Kuroo.

“Everyone loves me,” says Oikawa, throwing a peace sign with the hand not currently holding Kuroo’s wrist. Kuroo rolls his eyes and tries to jerk his hand out of Oikawa’s grip at exactly the same second as Oikawa tugs again on his wrist. The twin shocks are too much for Kuroo’s grip- the glass goes careening out of his hand in slow motion, Both of them dive for it, but the glass hits the floor before they can catch it. Smoothie sprays out of the cup, coating both of them in thick oddly-colored goop.

Hajime wishes he could frame the scandalized expression on Oikawa’s face right now to treasure it forever. A thick clump of something is sticking to his eyebrow; his face and clothes are completely covered in bizarre healthy ingredients. He’s shrieking in distress, high, incoherent noises. Hajime doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed this hard. He laughs until it turns into a cough low in his chest, but the image of Oikawa’s shocked and dripping face just won’t let him go. 

“Kuroo Tetsurou, you are dead to me,” Oikawa says once he calms down enough to be coherent. “I’m never tossing to you again. STOP LAUGHING,” he adds indignantly, because Kuroo is just about as covered in smoothie as Oikawa is and yet is laughing almost as hard as Hajime. 

Kuroo doesn’t stop laughing. “You look like that smoothie just murdered your family or something,” he gasps. “I’ve never seen you this mad in my life, not even at Ushiwaka.”

“Ushiwaka-chan doesn’t throw _smoothies_ at me,” Oikawa screeches. “I’m going to smell like garlic for a week!” He rips his shirt off angrily, throwing it on the ground. “I’m going to go shower.” He stalks off to the bathroom, losing pieces of clothing as he goes. By the time he’s out of sight, he’s down to his boxers.

Hajime hears Kuroo hum appreciatively. “Hot piece of ass you’ve got there, Iwaizumi,” he says.

“Stop staring at my boyfriend’s ass,” replies Hajime, only a little ruffled. He knows Oikawa is hot, and he knows Kuroo likes to stare. He also knows Oikawa is _his_ , and that Kuroo would never seriously consider anyone besides Kenma for even a second.

“Hey, I was just looking,” Kuroo says lazily. “Do you think he’d let me shower with him? This smoothie is actually pretty gross,” he adds, flicking out his tongue to catch a drop of smoothie dripping down his face.

“Wait your turn,” says Hajime. He turns to look behind the couch, where there’s been a distinct lack of reaction to Kuroo. “Hey Kenma, your boyfriend wants to shower with my boyfriend. Are you just going to let it happen?”

Kenma shrugs noncommittally, not looking up from their DS.

“What, aren’t you even a little jealous?” asks Kuroo, sounding almost disappointed.

“Kuro, please,” says Kenma. “Maybe I’ll be jealous after this boss battle.”

“Don’t be,” says Kuroo, smiling fondly at Kenma. “You’re cuter anyway.”

“I know.”

“And you’re much easier to deal with than Oikawa ‘Horrible Personality’ Tooru. I don’t know how you put up with him all day every day, Iwaizumi.”

Hajime smiles despite himself. “He’s not all that bad, really. Don’t tell him I said that.” After all, how could someone who arranged something like this for him be bad?

The day goes from dull to fun, despite the pounding in Hajime’s head and the burning in his throat. Suga’s soup is delicious, full of ginger and green onions as well as the chicken, and does a good deal to revive him; Yaku’s licorice tea does help calm his throat even more than the painkillers had. They end up watching an action movie, followed by some sappy American romance; Kuroo and Bokuto use up half of Hajime’s box of tissues sobbing at the ending, and Kuroo makes Kenma curl up on his lap for the latter half of the movie. A freshly-showered Oikawa sits next to Hajime, pressing lazy kisses to his neck every so often. When the movies finish they play Mario Kart for a few hours; there aren’t enough controllers for everyone and Hajime knows that in his current state he’d get destroyed, so he sits back and watches Kenma and, oddly, Suga leave everyone else in their dust and battle for the position of best gamer. 

By the time the others leave, it’s nearly one in the morning. Hajime yawns as he drags himself slowly to the bedroom. He feels the urge to clean up the mess his friends made, but decides that it can wait until the morning or someone who’s not deathly ill can do it. At least the remnants of the Smoothie of Doom are gone; Oikawa made Kuroo and Bokuto clean that mess up, refusing to touch it himself.

“Last chance to sleep on the couch and avoid as many of my germs as you can,” he says to Oikawa as the other boy sits heavily on the bed.

“It’s still too late for that, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies. “I’ve been kissing you all night.”

“I did warn you not to do that, dumbass,” Hajime says sleepily as he swings his legs up into bed and pulls the covers over himself. “You can’t blame me if you get sick.”

“I won’t, Iwa-chan,” promises Oikawa. “Anyway, if I get sick, you’ll take just as good care of me as I’ve been taking care of you, won’t you?”

“I’ve been taking care you for our whole lives and I probably will for the rest of our lives,” says Hajime. “I don’t know why I’d stop now.” He’s in that late-night space where affectionate truths slip out of his mouth more easily than they usually do. He wonders briefly if talking about the rest of their lives is looking too far ahead, expecting too much; but no, Oikawa’s never been afraid of commitment, and if Hajime’s honest, he’s known for most of their friendship that this was something built to last lifetimes.

“Oh, Iwa-chan, so romantic,” Oikawa says, wrapping his arms around Hajime and molding himself to the curve of Hajime’s body. “Our whole lives? Is that a promise?”

He doesn’t need to say it for it to be true. It’s a promise he’s been making with every word and action since the two of them first met in Oikawa’s backyard, since they first picked up a volleyball, since the moment he decided that he would follow Oikawa anywhere. With every moment of his existence, he promises forever, and Oikawa returns the favor. But, “yeah, it’s a promise,” he answers sleepily, and feels Oikawa hug him tighter.

“I love you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers into his ear.

“I love you too,” he answers, and lets sleep claim him with a smile on his face.

(He’s not surprised when Oikawa wakes up four days later with what he proclaims to be the “worst cold in the history of the world, oh, Iwa-chan, whatever you had could _never_ compare to this”. He’s not surprised when Oikawa needs to be taken care of every single second, “or I don’t think I’ll ever be able to set again… Iwa-chan, is this the end?” But he puts up with every single whiny second gladly. After all, he made a promise.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this chapter! As always, I'm at [oikawatooruinedmylife](http://oikawatooruinedmylife.tumblr.com) for questions, comments, or anything else you might desire. I'll see you all tomorrow for more fic!


	3. Pet Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi comes up with an idea to get Oikawa to stop calling him Iwa-chan and it backfires in the best possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! This chapter is pretty short- enjoy a thousand words of flustered fluffy boys! I feel like Oikawa is definitely one of those people who can dish endearments out but can't take them at all, so it's time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. I hope you enjoy!

Iwaizumi Hajime has been Iwa-chan ever since Oikawa Tooru first dashed into his life ten years ago. He’s willing to admit that for the first few years it was a pretty appropriate name for his age; it’s cute and childish, and while he never liked it, at least it made sense for a younger Oikawa to be calling him that. But now he’s seventeen and so is Oikawa and this is just getting ridiculous. 

He’s tried to tell Oikawa to stop calling him that, dear _God_ , has he tried, in a hundred different ways. He almost made it a condition of his dating Oikawa, although that failed when he saw Oikawa’s trembling pout and watering eyes. (No matter how long they’ve known each other, and no matter how fake Hajime knows the tears are, he’s still not able to resist crying Oikawa.) But this time he has a plan that he thinks will work at long last and get the scourge of this nickname off his back.

“Good morning, Iwa-chan,” says Oikawa, bouncing out of his house. He’s been especially happy ever since their third year started a few weeks ago; the pleasure of being captain and having his own team to lead at long last is written in every line of his posture. Oikawa’s a natural leader, Hajime knows. Maybe that’s why it’s _so fucking hard_ to convince him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Ah well, maybe this will do the trick. He takes a deep breath- man, he didn’t realize that this was going to be as embarrassing for him to say as for Oikawa to hear- and replies, mumbling a bit, “Good morning, Tooru-chan.”

Oikawa freezes mid-bounce, his jaw dropping and blood rushing to his cheeks. He stares at Hajime with glazed eyes like he can’t believe what he just heard. His expression makes Hajime feel a little better about his own raging blush. “W- what did you just call me, Iwa-chan?”

“Tooru-chan,” Hajime repeats, his voice a little stronger right now. “I figured if one of us had an annoying nickname that refuses to go away no matter how many times they ask, then both of us should.”

“Iwa-chan, I- I-” Oikawa’s flushing to the tips of his ears and stammering. Finally he manages to get some words out. “ _Say it again._ ” His eyes are glowing. This was NOT in Hajime’s plan.

“Tooru-chan,” he says anyway, in sing-song, because watching Oikawa get this flustered is completely adorable. Any facades he might have had up are completely dropped, and in that moment he’s completely Oikawa Tooru. Hajime wants to kiss the blush off his face. He pecks him on the lips, but the blush merely intensifies. Hajime turns, saying “Come on, Tooru-chaaaan, we’ll be late for school.” Oikawa gives a muffled groan and hurries along after him.

This isn’t working out the way Hajime wanted- he’s still stuck with the most childish and annoying nickname he could possibly have- but he’s still having fun. Every time he calls Oikawa Tooru-chan, he gets to watch the other boy blush and stutter his way through the next several minutes. It’s amazing the effect a simple nickname can have. All day, Hajime revels in slipping it into casual conversation. When he says it in front of Oikawa’s fangirls, they all squeal and giggle- “Iwaizumi-san, so romantic!”- while Oikawa almost swoons. But the best one is definitely during practice, when Hajime yells “Hit a nice serve, Tooru-chan!” during Oikawa’s run-up to his serve and Oikawa trips and falls flat on his ass. The entire gym explodes with laughter as Oikawa sits on the floor where he landed, helpless with embarrassment.

“I can’t handle this, Iwa-chan,” he says after school. “You have to stop. It’s too cute and it’s ruining my reputation.”

“I’ll offer you a trade,” says Hajime. “Stop calling me Iwa-chan and I’ll stop calling you Tooru-chan.” 

Oikawa gasps in horror. “But Iwa-chan, that’s my precious childhood nickname for you! It speaks to the depth of our love. It’s _adorable_.”

“It’s dumb as hell and it makes us both sound like we’re five,” says Hajime firmly. “Do we have a deal, _Tooru-chaaaan_?”

Oikawa flinches visibly as the nickname hits him and buries his face in his hands. “Ugh, Iwa-chan is just too adorable,” he moans from between his fingers. “All right, fine, Iwa-ch- Iwaizumi. We have a deal.”

“Perfect,” says Hajime, smirking. He’s won.

 

Only, it doesn’t feel like a victory. He thought he wanted to be rid of that horrible nickname, but somehow, being called Iwaizumi just doesn’t feel as good as he’d thought it would. Maybe it’s the slightly sour expression on Oikawa’s face as he says it, like he’s being forced to eat a lemon. Or maybe it’s just the fact that the name feels so formal, distant, in a way that “Iwa-chan” never could. He feels like he’s a business partner of Oikawa’s, not his best friend and boyfriend. And he’s never noticed before just how Oikawa nicknames literally all of his friends until he’s the only one without a nickname. Their relationship is still the same- he doesn’t doubt Oikawa’s love in the least just because it’s now going by a different pet name- but Hajime can’t shake the feeling that he messed up big-time.

He has to fix this, somehow, but his pride is getting in the way. He can’t just admit that he likes being called Iwa-chan; that’ll give Oikawa years’ worth of ammunition and probably make him blush as badly as he’s been making Oikawa blush. He has to think of another way. 

And then it comes to him, blindingly obvious. _“Stop calling me Iwa-chan and I’ll stop calling you Tooru-chan.”_

All he has to do is go back on their agreement. Of course. Nothing could be simpler.

The day after he realizes this is a Sunday, but of course he and Oikawa are hanging out anyway. They’re technically doing their homework, but Oikawa’s mostly using it as an excuse to find different ways to sneak kisses out of Hajime. Hajime’s not trying very hard to avoid the kisses.

“Quiz me on my vocab for English, all right, Iwaizumi?” says Oikawa, drawing out the vowels of Hajime’s name. He’s figured out how to still make it sound annoying, somehow. 

“Sure, Tooru-chan,” Hajime says casually, and Oikawa gasps.

“Did you just-”

Hajime grins as he watches the familiar strawberry color spread across Oikawa’s cheeks. “What did I do?”

Oikawa smiles like sunrise is breaking across the bright pink clouds of his face. “You know exactly what you did, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime can’t help smiling. The world is back to normal. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Oikawa,” he says, returning to his usual nomenclature and crossing his fingers inwardly that Oikawa will pick up on the signal anyway.

Oikawa kisses him lightly on the lips. “Sure, Iwa-chan. You’re such a liar.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” replies Hajime, but he’s smiling. He’s Iwa-chan again. 

Something flashes across Oikawa’s face, and then his eyes narrow as he grins evilly. “Now come over here and quiz me on my vocab… Ha-ji-me.”  
Each of the syllables thuds into Hajime’s chest like an extra heartbeat. An audible groan escapes his lips. He thinks he might actually die if he ever hears those three syllables from Oikawa again. 

He tries to reply to Oikawa- his lips definitely move- but he’s not sure if anything actually comes out. 

“What’s wrong, Hajime?” Oikawa is full-on smirking now. He looks a little terrifying.

“N-nothing, Tooru-chan,” Hajime manages to stutter. If he’s dead, he’s bringing Oikawa down with him. 

“Really… Hajime?” Oikawa manages to force out. 

Hajime is so far from okay. This was the worst idea ever. He is completely and absolutely too gay to function. “Let’s just do your damn vocab, Tooru-chan.”

He should have just accepted being called Iwa-chan in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Find me at [oikawatooruinedmylife](http://oikawatooruinedmylife.tumblr.com) for questions, comments, or whatever else :) See you all next time!


	4. Words Never Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 6 in the morning on June 10th, and Iwaizumi Hajime's soulmate is Oikawa Tooru, and he thinks he might throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I accidentally wrote almost 10k today! This isn't very edited because I spent so long writing it, sorry- hopefully it's still understandable! To clarify this specific soulmate AU, in this universe a tattoo appears on some part of your body on your 18th birthday pointing you to your soulmate- on their 18th birthday they will get a similar tattoo on the same part of their body. I hope everyone enjoys!

Iwaizumi Hajime has never thought much about his soulmate, really. He knows it’s a common thing to fantasize about, especially among girls- what your soulmate tattoo will look like, whether it will be a name, or the first words you’ll say or have said to them, or whether it’ll be something more artistic describing your bond. Recently, as his classmates get older and older, he’s heard them fantasize about whether their soulmates are walking around right now with a tattoo that binds the two of them together, just waiting for their partner’s tattoo to appear in the corresponding position. He’s talked about it with Oikawa a few times, too. Oikawa’s a massive romantic at heart, and Hajime can tell he’s excited to figure out what pretty girl he’ll settle down with, although the last few months he’s seemed less excited and more jittery about it. Hajime hasn’t really felt excited about it. He hasn’t really felt _anything_ about it. It’s just something that happens- you get your soulmate tattoo (or two, or three, or none), you find your soulmate (after a minute, or a month, or a year, or never) and you get on with your life. And he won’t have to do anything about it until his 18th birthday, anyway.

This line of thought has gotten him through life exceptionally well- except now it’s June 9th, and his 18th birthday is tomorrow, and he wasn’t prepared for this at all. He might be freaking out a little bit. By dint of completely ignoring it and assuming that he had time to worry about it, he appears to have pushed all his years of accumulated worry into the evening before he gets his tattoo. He’s thought about it before but only in the vaguest of terms; he’s always assumed he’ll be soulmates with some nice, cute girl and settle down with her, but now thousands of possibilities are jumping into his head. What if it’s someone he despises? What if she despises him? What if it’s someone he doesn’t know, or someone with a name so common that he’ll never find her? “Hajime” is such a common first name that his parents haven’t done him any favors by making him easier to find. What if his tattoo is one of the abstract and artistic ones that make it almost impossible to find your soulmate except by guessing? What if he doesn’t get a tattoo at all? What if he gets a tattoo but his soulmate has someone else’s instead? 

Years’ worth of what-ifs are pressing down on him, every nightmare soulmate scenario he’s ever heard swirling in his head, and this is just _ridiculous_. He’s never cared before, and so what if something goes wrong with his soulmate? He’s gotten along just fine without her, whoever she is, for almost eighteen years now. He can get along fine from here on out. He’s happy the way he is, with volleyball and studying and his dumb best friend taking up most of his time. He doesn’t know how he’ll even fit in a soulmate, honestly, although it is a problem he’d rather have than that of having no soulmate at all. But however this works, he’ll figure it out somehow. He always does.

He tries to comfort himself with that, to shove the thoughts out of his mind like he always has before and concentrate on homework, but all too soon the homework is done and he has nothing to take his mind off things. He tries to read a book, but he can’t force his eyes to stay on the page- they keep darting around as he thinks of yet another ridiculous soulmate scenario. Eventually, he tosses the book to the side with a sigh and stares at the ceiling. It’s 8 pm on June 9th right now. He was born at around 5 am on June 10th- there’s no way he’s staying up for that on a school night, no matter how cool it would be to watch his tattoo form (if he even can- if it’s not on his back or somewhere else hard to find). He’s got way too many hours to kill until bedtime.

Well, there’s one solution for that. He sighs, grabs his phone from the bedside table, and dials. 

“Hello?” says Oikawa on the other end.

“Hey,” he answers gruffly.

“Iwa-chan? What is it?” Oikawa sounds confused- Hajime never calls.

“Want to come over and watch a movie?” Hajime asks.

“But I thought you said you didn’t want me around tonight-” says Oikawa uncertainly. It’s true that Hajime did say that, but only because he didn’t want Oikawa asking him endless questions about his tattoo and adding to his stress. Sometimes Oikawa doesn’t know when to shut up. But honestly, Oikawa is Hajime’s best friend and his greatest distraction, and he needs him here right now.

“Changed my mind,” he says gruffly. 

“I’m on my way,” says Oikawa, and hangs up. Hajime sighs in relief. He knows when Oikawa gets here the other boy will probably tease him about not being able to survive a single night without the great Oikawa Tooru’s presence, but he’ll take it, as long as Oikawa is there. He can’t remember the last time he needed someone’s company this badly.

There’s a knock on the door within five minutes- unsurprisingly, as Oikawa lives next door. He opens the door to find Oikawa holding a bag and wearing a grin. “Hello, Iwa-chan! Your savior has arrived!” He spreads his arms wide in a faux-heroic pose. 

“Get in, idiot, you’ll scare the neighbors with that dumbass pose you’re making.”

“I think if the neighbors have survived eighteen years living next to you and your face, they can survive me. Unless my beauty kills them, of course.” 

“Why did I invite you over, again?” Hajime says as Oikawa slips off his shoes at the doorway and mutters “sorry for the intrusion”.

“Iwa-chan, so rude,” Oikawa pouts. It’s funny, because that fake pout usually annoys the shit out of Hajime, and it still does, but just seeing it causes some of the tension to ease from his chest.

It turns out that the bag is full of Oikawa’s favorite sci-fi movies and a variety of Kit-Kats and Pocky in around 10 different flavors. It’s lucky Oikawa plays volleyball to work off all the energy from his constant supply of sweets, Hajime thinks, but he’s glad Oikawa’s willing to share tonight. He’s less glad about the sci-fi movies, but, well, that’s Oikawa and his alien obsession. Oikawa at least lets him pick which movie to watch (and acts as if this is incredibly magnanimous of him, which it really isn’t, considering that this is Hajime’s house and the movie night was his idea), and Hajime picks one that looks like it has the least romance possible. God forbid soulmate tattoos come up as a subplot- this is supposed to be a distraction.

He picks well, thank goodness. The movie is very typical of Oikawa- loud space battles between two different races of aliens and the small group of humans caught in the middle- but it’s not so bad for all that. He actually gets sort of into it by the end. About fifty percent of his attention is taken up by the outcome of the space battles, thirty percent by Oikawa snuggled into his shoulder providing a running commentary and munching his way through his fourth box of Pocky, and only twenty percent by the crushing array of what-ifs. It’s a better ratio than he hoped for.

When the movie finishes, Oikawa turns to him, fidgeting with his empty box of Pocky, and takes a deep breath. “Um, Iwa-chan,” he begins, sounding oddly vulnerable, “so tomorrow-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hajime cuts him off brusquely. He thought that was obvious, but Oikawa has an amazing ability to completely ignore the atmosphere when it suits his needs.

“But before you get your tattoo I just wanted to say that I-”

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it! Is it really that hard, Shittykawa?” Hajime explodes. He can feel the worries returning, his comfortable mood broken.

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” Oikawa says, crestfallen. But he recovers in just a few seconds, bouncing up from the couch. “Oooh, we should watch this movie next. It’s terrible, but it’s the fun kind of terrible. And I’m gonna make popcorn for it!” He disappears quickly into the kitchen.

The next movie is absolutely terrible, but Hajime finds himself enjoying making angry comments about implausible plot twists and throwing popcorn kernels at the screen. He’s even laughing, which is much more than he expected. He thanks Oikawa internally. As much of an asshole as the other boy knows how to be sometimes, he also knows how to be a great friend. Their relationship is so well-worn, a track they’ve been walking for more than ten years now, that they don’t even have to think about it anymore. It’s easy, familiar, comfortable- the opposite of what finding his soulmate will be like. Hajime is glad he has this.

He kicks Oikawa out at midnight, because it’s six hours before they have to wake up _(five hours before he gets his tattoo)_ and they both need their sleep for practice tomorrow. Despite their loss at the Interhigh last week (honestly, fuck Shiratorizawa), they’re practicing harder than ever. 

“Do you want me to stay overnight?” Oikawa asks tentatively, but Hajime shakes his head. He doesn’t want anyone to be there when it happens. It feels like something he should do alone. 

“I’ll be fine,” he answers. “Now get out. And you better go straight to sleep instead of watching game footage until three in the morning.”

“I will, I will,” Oikawa promises airily. He probably won’t, but at least Hajime tried. “Hey, Iwa-chan?” He turns back with one foot over the threshold.

“What?”

“Is there… Is there anyone you want it to be?” Hajime opens his mouth, ready to yell at Oikawa for bringing it up _again_ , but Oikawa’s face is so open right now that he can’t bring himself to.

Hajime thinks over the catalogue of all the people he’s ever met. None of them really seems more appealing than any other. He shakes his head and answers “Not really.”

“Oh. Okay.” Oikawa’s expression shifts, but he turns away and begins the walk back to his house before Hajime can analyze the change. “Goodbye, Iwa-chan.”

“Night,” Hajime responds, and shuts the door behind him.

It’s only in bed later, when he’s alone with himself and his swirling thoughts, that it occurs to him to wonder why Oikawa said “Goodbye” instead of “Goodnight”.

It amazes him that he gets to sleep at all. He probably drifts off somewhere around 2 am, after hours of tossing and turning and trying to hold on to the warm, safe feeling he’d had earlier this evening. Once he sleeps, although it’s a shallow sleep, he manages to hold onto it until his alarm blares at 6 am.  
He surfaces from sleep slowly, the first thing he’s conscious of being a sick dread at the bottom of his stomach. He can’t remember why, at first, just that something huge is about to happen. Then the knowledge slowly seeps into his brain that he’s eighteen now, and he has his tattoo, somewhere.  
The last vestiges of sleepiness are torn away by the shock of realization. It’s here. He jumps out of bed and stares down at himself, trying to find the tattoo. It doesn’t take him very long- he checks his right palm, and there it is, shining out in brilliant color.

The first thing he registers is that it’s a crown, and for a sick second, he thinks, _holy shit, is my soulmate Kageyama?_ He’s halfway to grabbing his phone to text the other boy- he still has all of his kouhai’s old phone numbers- when more details of the tattoo sink in. The crown is silver and aqua, on a background of branching, vine-like swirls in aqua and white. It’s in Seijou colors, so of course it couldn’t be Kageyama. But who-

There’s another king, isn’t there. A voice from last week’s match comes back to him- Karasuno’s vibrant shorty and his piping voice, yelling _“It’s the Grand King!”_

The Grand King. Oikawa is the Grand King, and Hajime has a crown on his palm, and in all his what-if scenarios he never came up with anything as insane, as completely unthinkable, as this.

It’s 6 in the morning on June 10th, Iwaizumi Hajime’s soulmate is Oikawa Tooru, and he thinks he might throw up.

He has no idea what he’s supposed to do. He’s never thought of Oikawa as anything more than a friend; he’s never even considered this as a possibility. Oikawa is, well, he’s _Oikawa_ \- annoying, frivolous, childish, petty, strong, dependable, sweet, dangerous. Is that what a soulmate is? Is this how he’s supposed to feel about the person that fate has just told him he’s destined for? Hajime has too many questions to even list, let alone to begin answering any of them. He’s adrift and alone. He doesn’t know what to _do._

He stares at his tattoo for probably ten minutes, eyes wide, unconsciously memorizing every line that’s now emblazoned on his skin. It’s beautiful, he’ll give it that. The way the lines curl around each other suggest a garden bursting into life on his skin. He might even like it, if not for everything it stood for.

“Happy birthday, Hajime!” his mother calls up the stairs. “Are you awake yet?”

“Yeah,” he answers hoarsely, standing up and curling his right hand into a fist so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer. “I’m getting ready, thanks, Mom.”

He dresses as if in a daze and runs his fingers through his hair a few times, then half-stumbles downstairs. He avoids his mom’s pointed questions about his tattoo as much as he can- yes, he has one, no, he doesn’t want to show anyone yet, no, he’s not sure who it is. (It _could_ be some other king or queen at Seijou, he reasons stubbornly, not willing to admit to himself that he’s lying to his mother.) His mom gives him a kiss on the forehead- “Congratulations, honey, I’m so proud of the way you’ve grown up-” and shoves him out the door on the way to school.

Oikawa’s waiting outside, which is a surprise- Oikawa’s not nearly as good at getting up with his alarm as Hajime is, due to his addiction to staying up late. Hajime’s nowhere near prepared to see Oikawa yet. He literally jumps backwards three or so inches when he’s confronted with Oikawa’s smiling face.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “...good morning to you too, Iwa-chan.”

“Morning,” Hajime grunts. He’s amazed he can get the word out. The word soulmate is thundering through his head, drowning out everything else. His eyes are fixed on Oikawa, drinking him in. Is this what a soulmate looks like? The wide brown eyes, the stupidly perfect wavy hair, the soft pink lips- is this what he’s going to see every morning for the rest of his life?

“Happy birthday, you old man,” Oikawa teases affectionately.

“Shut up, dumbass,” Hajime replies, his mouth on insult autopilot. “You’ll be eighteen in forty days, anyway.”

“Yeah, but I’m young at heart, whereas you’ve always been a crotchety seventy-year-old.”

“Even on my birthday you’re an asshole,” says Hajime. “Why would I expect any different?” Is this how a soulmate talks to you? Banter full of constant insults? Is this how a soulmate looks at you, with an impish grin? Are you supposed to glower back? Hajime’s been doing this every day for more than half his life, but all of a sudden the well-worn path has completely worn through and he’s falling. Every step, every word, is suddenly unfamiliar territory in a place he’s called home for ten years. His tattoo burns on his hand, and Hajime unconsciously clenches his fist even tighter. 

“I’m just telling the truth, Iwa-chan. Not my fault if you can’t handle it,” Oikawa shrugs.

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get going.” He suddenly thinks about practice, about how everyone will be staring at him, searching for evidence of his tattoo, asking him pervasive questions about his soulmate, and shudders. He needs to find a way to hide the tattoo. He doesn’t want anyone to see. Dear God, he doesn’t want _Oikawa_ to see, he’s nowhere near ready for that.

Oikawa shows more restraint than Hajime’s expecting him to about the subject of soulmates; he doesn’t bring the subject up until they’re almost three-quarters of the way to school. “So, Iwa-chan,” he says delicately, “did you-”

“Yes, I got one, no, I’m not going to show you, no, I don’t want to talk about it,” says Hajime brusquely.

Oikawa keeps pushing. “Iwa-chan, you wound me. You won’t even show your oldest friend?”

“No,” replies Hajime. “Especially not you. You’d probably tell the entire school.” He tries to play it off like this is a normal conversation, like there are no undercurrents riding under the surface, making his pulse beat double-time, making every word sound like a word he’s never said before. He’s woken up into an entirely new world.

“Iwa-chan is so mean to me. I’m not a gossip!”

“Have you even looked at yourself lately? You are TERRIBLE at keeping secrets.”

“Not true.” Oikawa bumps his hip into Hajime’s, shoving him off course. “If you showed me, I’d keep your secret to the grave, I swear.”

Hajime shoves back. “Still not showing you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Why would I trust you, asshole?” Of course he does. Like Oikawa said last week, they share a perfect trust between them; they’ve always been in-sync. He wonders if that’s because they’re soulmates, and then sighs, because this stupid tattoo is invading everything he’s ever taken for granted, even his trust in Oikawa. Regardless, no matter how much he trusts him, there’s no way he’s showing him. What if the tattoo doesn’t mean Oikawa after all? What if it does, but when Oikawa gets his tattoo in forty days, someone else’s name is on his skin? He can’t risk that.

Oikawa pouts. “Screw you, Iwa-chan.”

That brings another thought into his mind. Is he supposed to want that now? Screwing Oikawa? His sexuality is another one of those things he’s procrastinated, assuming it would figure itself out by the time it was relevant- he’s pretty sure he’s not asexual, but that’s more or less all he knows. He’s never gone out with any guys or girls, so he has nothing to compare his feelings for Oikawa to as a benchmark. Is he attracted to Oikawa?  
“Hey!” Oikawa’s snapping his fingers in front of Hajime’s eyes, and he realizes that he never responded to Oikawa, and has instead been staring at the other boy’s face with a considering expression. _Nice job, Hajime._ He honestly does not know how he’s going to survive this strange new world.

Practice makes matters even worse. He manages to sneak into the first-aid kit while Oikawa is changing and wrap his entire right hand up in tape. It’s extremely far from subtle, but it guarantees that no one else will catch a glimpse of his tattoo, and that’s what matters most. 

The tape can’t protect him from the endless stream of questions, though. He’s the oldest one on the team (much to the dismay of Oikawa, who would love to be the oldest and thus the Alpha Senpai), so no one else has their tattoos yet and they’re all _much_ too curious. He answers a few of their many questions. Kindaichi asks whether the tattoo hurt with a semi-terrified look on his face, and Hajime would have to be pretty heartless to refuse to answer that. But he refuses to give up any information about what his tattoo looks like and who he thinks his soulmate is, despite all the prodding from the rest of the team. Oikawa is surprisingly uninvolved in the questions- maybe he got his fill earlier- but Hanamaki and Matsukawa are especially relentless. Hajime can feel his temper building, but tries to keep it under control. His spikes are especially violent that morning. The ball flies from Oikawa’s hands to his, impacting his palm at the exact place where the tattoo is, and he feels his heart twist helplessly inside him.

He keeps the tape on for the rest of the day. It’s a little difficult to write with it on, hard to curl his hand around the pencil, and he thinks that he might want to invest in some fingerless gloves- they sell that sort of thing for people like him, who aren’t comfortable showing their tattoos to the rest of the world. He’ll have to run out to the store after practice, because he can’t handle everyone who knows his birthday staring at his hand and knowing exactly what’s under all that tape.

Afternoon practice is just as hard as morning practice was; the questions are fewer, but he’s proportionally more irritated by each one. At least his connection with Oikawa on the court is as strong as ever. It’s the one place that the new thoughts invading his brain can’t touch, somehow. His play style isn’t like Oikawa’s, all analysis and targeting the weaknesses of the opposing players. He just puts himself in the best position, jumps, and connects with the ball. It lets him turn his brain off and relish the feeling of receiving Oikawa’s toss and slamming it over the net. It feels clean and simple in a way nothing else has today.

Spiking practice is over too soon for his liking, though, and the questions return as they wait their turn to practice receiving.

“What, are you scared of telling us?” asks Matsukawa, almost lazily.

“No,” Hajime snaps, patience hanging by a thread, “I just don’t want you to know.”

“Why not, is it one of us?” asks Hanamaki, and Hajime works as hard as he can to keep his expression unchanging.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replies.

“What, is it someone we know, then?”

“I’m not telling you who it is no matter how you try to get it out of me.” He can feel anger collecting in his throat, a buzzing tension rising in his ears.

“Jeez, stop being so panicky,” says Matsukawa. “It’s not like we’re gonna tell anyone.”

“I’M not gonna tell anyone. I’m not ready, okay?” says Hajime, giving up a little more than he wanted to in the hopes that maybe it’ll get them off his case.

Hanamaki grabs Hajime’s right hand, turning it palm-up. Hajime slaps him in the face.

The sharp _crack_ of the slap echoes throughout the gym. Faces are turning to look at them. Hanamaki drops Hajime’s hand from his own, suddenly slack ones, seemingly in shock.

Hajime snarls “Don’t you fucking touch me, asshole,” and storms out of the gym. He’s breathing fast, on the edge of panic. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, that it was a terrible idea and that Mizoguchi-san and Irihata-sensei are probably going to come down hard on him, but it’s not like he could stop himself. He sits down heavily against the outside wall of the gym, letting a few tears slip out from under his eyelids. He still has no idea what to do about the tattoo, about Oikawa, and now he probably has at least an in-school suspension on top of it. “Happy birthday to me,” he whispers to himself.

Ten minutes later, someone taps his shoulder. He looks up to see Oikawa offering a hand up. He grabs Oikawa’s hand- with his left hand, not his right- and lets himself be pulled up.

“Well, I fucked up,” he says bitterly.

Oikawa shrugs. “You’re fine. Makki knows he was out of line. I talked to Mizoguchi-san and Irihata-sensei and they’re not going to punish you- soulmates are serious business.” He smirks darkly. “Trust me, no one’s going to comment on it again.”

Hajime wonders what Oikawa’s been doing in there. He’s practically radiating some sort of cold energy. At times like this Oikawa is dangerous. Hajime’s grateful that the danger is directed away from him.

“All right, everyone,” Oikawa says in a low but carrying voice as they step back into the gym. Hajime realizes he’s still clutching Oikawa’s hand from when the latter pulled him up, but he’s disinclined to let go. He feels some of Oikawa’s diamond-hard strength pouring into his body, armoring him. “Like I said, the next person to mention the words ‘soulmate’ or ‘tattoo’ gets twenty laps of flying falls. Are we clear here?”

The team nods as one and practice proceeds. 

“So what are we doing for your birthday?” Oikawa asks after practice is over. 

Hajime shrugs. “I didn’t really have a plan.” He’s only thought of his birthday in terms of soulmates and all the complications they’d bring, not in terms of celebration.

“You are one of the most boring people I’ve ever met, honestly,” says Oikawa. “It’s your eighteenth birthday and you don’t even have a plan? Come on, live a little!”

“What do _you_ want to do?” says Hajime, sighing. Oikawa wouldn’t needle him this much about it if he didn’t already have a plan in mind.

“I got us reservations at that new Taiwanese place and tickets for the planetarium show at the science museum,” Oikawa rattles off. “Your parents already know, and I knew you’d have no plans like the sad boring loser you are, unless you were hit by the unshakable impulse to run off and find your soulmate, which is clearly not happening judging by how pissy you’ve been about the whole thing. If we hurry home to drop off our stuff we can catch the 6:30 train and be into the city by 7. Our reservations are at 7 and it’s supposed to take about an hour to eat there. The museum exhibits are open until 10 on Friday nights, so there’ll be time to go see that rock exhibit you like, and then the show starts at 10.” He grins smugly.

“Do you have to go do flying falls now?” asks Hajime. “You know, since you said the S-word?”

“I’m the captain,” says Oikawa airily. “It doesn’t count for me.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to the planetarium again,” Hajime says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not even the one who likes the planetarium. YOU like the planetarium.”

“You know you love the planetarium,” replies Oikawa, winking. Hajime feels his heart do a flip. 

“I don’t mind the planetarium,” he says with a sigh. He does love watching the way Oikawa’s face lights up when they’re watching the stars on the screen above them, at least. “Come on, let’s go.”

The night is even more fun than Hajime had thought it would be. The restaurant Oikawa picked is delicious, and the science museum ends up being a blast; Oikawa drags him to all the space exhibits, sure, but he doesn’t even mind it that much. He only thinks about soulmates a few hundred times, every time Oikawa touches him, or smiles, or says something, or breathes. He’s still utterly adrift; is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Is this what he wants? How can he fit a revelation like this into his life in the space of a day? The answer to that appears to be that he can’t.

They part at Oikawa’s doorstep at the end of the night, Oikawa yawning widely and Hajime stifling a yawn of his own. “Thanks for today,” Hajime says. “It was… really nice.”

“See, this is why you need to have me around,” Oikawa replies through another yawn. “The great Oikawa Tooru saves the day once again.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, idiot,” Hajime warns, smacking him on the back of the head.

“I had fun too,” Oikawa says, rubbing the back of his head and smiling sincerely. The two of them stand on the doorstep for a few awkward seconds. Hajime feels like he should be doing something, but he can’t for the life of him think what. The air between them hums with something he’s never thought to name. He’s about to turn away when Oikawa suddenly grabs his right hand and sweeps his thumb roughly over Hajime’s tape-covered palm. It happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to protest, can barely even tell if it happened or he just imagined it.

“Well, goodnight,” says Oikawa softly, and disappears into his house. Hajime stands in place, blinks a few times, and runs his left thumb softly over the place where Oikawa touched him. Suddenly he understands less than ever.

As the days pass by, it doesn’t help him understand any more. He tries to analyze every interaction with Oikawa he has, spends a lot of time staring at the other boy’s graceful form as if it’ll answer any of his questions. _Is he really my soulmate? If he is, am I his? Should I tell him? How do I feel about him?_ The answers lie somewhere within a sea of feelings and urges he has no clue how to navigate.

More than anything he thinks he needs someone to talk to, someone who understands, someone who _won’t tell Oikawa no matter what_. He can’t think of anyone, though- he’s spent hours scrolling through his contact list, weighing the pros and cons of each person. Most of his friends from Kitagawa Daiichi had gone to Aoba Jousai with him; he usually counts that as something positive, but now what he really needs is someone removed from the situation.

The idea hits him when he thinks about Kitagawa Daiichi. He’s still on relatively friendly terms with Kageyama, although they rarely speak. He can’t actually talk with his ex-kouhai about this, as Kageyama is absolutely hopeless with anything to do with feelings ( _That’s rich coming from you_ , a voice in his head scolds) and not a fan of Oikawa. But maybe, just maybe, one of Kageyama’s senpai will already have their tattoo and will be willing to hold an impromptu therapy session with him. He knows it’s an insane idea, to pour out all of his troubles into the shoulder of a stranger who probably holds a grudge against him for beating his team just last week, but at this point all he has left is insane ideas.

_Kageyama, do any of your senpai have their soulmate tattoos?_ he texts about a week after his birthday, when his reticence has completely dissolved in the face of his exhaustion.

_Suga-san just got his a few days ago_ , Kageyama texts back quickly. _He won’t show anyone, though. Why do you ask?_

Hajime thinks he knows who “Suga-san” is- he has faint memories of silver hair over a kind face and a surprisingly keen volleyball mind. The prospect seems promising. _Would you mind giving me his number?_

_...Okay,_ Kageyama replies after a few minutes. His next text contains an unfamiliar phone number.

Kageyama and Hajime chat back and forth for the next few minutes about their lives (mostly about volleyball, and how much both of them have improved since middle school) while Hajime tries to figure out how to word his introductory text. He finally settles on _Suga-san? This is Iwaizumi Hajime from Aoba Jousai. I’m sorry to contact you out of the blue like this, but I heard that you recently received your soulmate tattoo as well and I was wondering if you could give me some advice._ He feels like an idiot as he presses “Send”. He still can’t believe he’s doing this, but he just needs to talk to someone, at this point he doesn’t care who.

Suga-san is a fast responder. _Sure, Iwaizumi-san_ , he sends almost instantly. _What did you want to talk about?_

Hajime struggles to put his feelings into words. _I just got my soulmate tattoo,_ he sends, and _I think it’s someone I know. I don’t know what to do._

_Is it Oikawa?_

Hajime rereads the words on the screen, on the edge of panic. Is it that obvious to everyone? Almost without thinking, he presses the call button.

“Hello? Iwaizumi-san?” he hears a light voice ask on the other end.

“How did you know?” he asks instead of a greeting. 

Suga hums. “Well, the two of you seem awfully close,” he says. “You’re almost perfectly in-sync on the court. And whoever your soulmate is, if you’re so upset about it that you’re calling a stranger to vent, it has to be someone who’s important to you already.”

“Yeah,” Hajime breathes. He’s amazed by Suga’s perception- he really does watch everything on the court. “Yeah, it’s him.”

“What’s the problem?” Suga asks gently.

“I don’t know,” says Hajime, frustrated at his own inability to understand himself. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Do I tell him? Do I wait? His birthday is in just over a month, so I guess he’ll know then, but what if he doesn’t? What if I’m wrong and my soulmate is someone else? What if we don’t have matching tattoos? What if he’s my soulmate but I’m not his? I don’t even know if I like him, you know, _that_ way- I’ve never thought about it before in my life and I just can’t tell. I’m lost and confused and I don’t know how to act and the closer it gets to his birthday the worse I feel.” He pauses for breath. “Wow, I’m sorry. That was a lot.”

“It’s okay,” says Suga soothingly. “You clearly needed to get it out. Let’s take this a little bit at a time, okay? If we break the problem into smaller pieces it might help them feel manageable.”

“Sure,” says Hajime. He already feels a little better just from having the words out there in the air.

“Let’s try this first. What would you want your relationship with your soulmate to be like?”

Hajime thinks. “I would want to feel comfortable with them,” he answers, “but I wouldn’t want a boring relationship. I’d want us to challenge each other but take care of each other too. I want someone I can trust- _oh_ ,” he breaks off as he hears an echo of Oikawa on the court, talking about their “perfect trust”, and realizes that he’s just described his relationship with Oikawa, minus the hundreds of times a day they annoy each other. A piece of the puzzle slots into place.

“And how does that compare to how you feel about Oikawa?”

“It’s the same,” Hajime says, through a throat that seems to be suddenly trying to close up on him.

“There we go,” says Suga brightly. 

“I still don’t know if I… l-love him,” says Hajime, hating himself for stuttering.

“Soulmates can be platonic too, you know,” says Suga. “It doesn’t have to be a romantic or sexual love for the two of you to be meant for each other.”

Hajime nods before remembering that Suga can’t see him and saying “Okay.” He pauses and then continues softly. “I think I might like him, though,” he says quickly, trying to get it out. “I don’t know but sometimes when we touch it’s like electricity, and sometimes he makes my heart sort of… jump.” He hates himself for not being able to figure out all of this on his own, for the embarrassment of having to dump it all on Karasuno’s backup setter of all people. He can feel his tan skin blushing red.

“That does sound like you like him,” says Suga, a smile in his voice. “I can’t know for sure, because I’m not you, but I encourage you to keep thinking about it.”

“I will,” says Hajime. He doesn’t think he could stop himself, honestly.

“What is your tattoo, if I may ask?” says Suga delicately.

“It’s a crown, in Seijou colors, on my palm,” Hajime replies.

“The Grand King, huh,” Suga mutters to himself. “Yeah, that sounds like him, all right. I think it would be safe to say that he’s your soulmate, Iwaizumi-san.”

Hajime feels a weight lift off his shoulders when he hears that. This is outside confirmation that he’s not going crazy, that the evidence does point the direction he thinks it does. “Thank you, Suga-san,” he says, almost breathlessly.

“As for the other part, mmm, that’s harder,” says Suga. “Personally, I think his tattoo will point to you, but there’s really no way to tell until it appears. I wish I had better advice for you than to tell you to just wait and hope for the best… if I did, I’d be taking it for myself, trust me.”

“Oh, are you older than your soulmate?” Hajime asks.

“Yeah,” Suga confirms. “His birthday isn’t until the end of December.”

Hajime winces. “I’m sorry, that’s rough.”

“I am luckier than you’ve been in a lot of ways, though. My tattoo is a name instead of a symbol, so I know for sure.”

“Have you shown your soulmate yet?” asks Hajime. He’s still not sure if he should show Oikawa- he doesn’t know if Oikawa will react with disgust, or laughter, or approval. There are too many variables.

“No,” says Suga. “I still… don’t exactly know if I should. I think he’s either straight or thinks he’s straight, and I don’t want to scare him away by showing him something this big.” He sighs. “Everything about this is hard,” he says, in a suddenly smaller voice. “I’ve loved him for so long. I think I always knew he was going to be my soulmate.”

“It’s so hard,” Hajime agrees. “I wish you luck, Suga-san. I’m sorry you have to wait so long.”

“I’ll be okay,” says Suga, trying to put cheer into his voice. “It’s not really that different from what I’ve been doing the past few years. And at least on December 31st I’ll finally know, one way or the other.”

“Yeah,” says Hajime. “Thank you so much for helping me, Suga-san. You can’t know how much I appreciate it. If you ever want to talk, I’m not nearly as good at giving advice as you are, but… I’ll be here.”

“I might take you up on that sometime,” says Suga gratefully. “It’s a lot for one person to carry. Maybe if we share it the burden will be lighter.”

“I should go,” says Hajime awkwardly, “but thank you again. I’ll talk to you soon, I hope.”

“It was nice meeting you, Iwaizumi-san,” says Suga. “I’ll talk to you later.” There’s a click as he hangs up, and Hajime stands in the middle of his bedroom, phone in his hand and mind in a whirl.

It’s June 17th, and Oikawa is his soulmate. He’s certain of that now. He can’t believe it took him so long to decide that, really. The two of them have always been somehow fundamentally a unit in a way that he’s never felt with any of his other friends. When they’re together, they’re not really Oikawa and Hajime, they’re Oikawa-and-Hajime. A package deal. Two halves of a whole. That, he thinks, is what a soulmate is.

He starts to think about telling Oikawa. But how can he say it? _You’re my soulmate?_ Just straight-out, blunt, like that? He tries to do it, once, when they’re walking home from practice, but the words simply won’t leave his lips. He can barely breathe. He gives it up as a bad idea immediately after that, but the knowledge is still buzzing inside him, demanding release somehow.

Their relationship regains some of its former ease once he decides they’re soulmates. It’s easier being with Oikawa when he doesn’t have to spend every second of their interactions trying to decide _is that what a soulmate would do_? The answer is always yes. Yes, that is what a soulmate would do, since Oikawa is doing it. The knowledge is immensely comforting, somehow.

Questions are still haunting him, though. He knows he loves Oikawa platonically. He hasn’t really thought to put that specific word to it before, has never analyzed their relationship as deeply as he has in the past few weeks, but that was never really in question. He would follow Oikawa anywhere, do anything for him without question, as long as it wasn’t something that would end up hurting him. He would protect Oikawa from anything. But those were all things he already knew, and don’t help him answer the question of whether he loves Oikawa any other way.

He starts staring at Oikawa even more than he already was, if that’s possible. He’s fairly sure Oikawa catches him gazing at least once every five minutes, which is embarrassing, but he doesn’t let it stop him. He tries to memorize every line of Oikawa’s face and body, every toned muscle, every patch of toned skin, every eyelash and all of the striations in his irises. He realizes that his heart skips a beat every time Oikawa smiles genuinely. He realizes that when they hold hands, heat flashes through his body. When he stares at Oikawa’s back in the changing room one day and how his muscles flex as he pulls his shirt over his head and finds himself half-hard just from that, he realizes that he’s a _fucking idiot._

Of _course_ he finds Oikawa attractive. He thinks back to all the times he’s felt butterflies in his stomach from touching the other boy, every time his voice has sent shivers down Hajime’s spine, and realizes that he’s probably found Oikawa attractive for years. He can’t believe how much of an idiot he is.

He starts picturing a life with Oikawa, years stretching out ahead of them, buying some crappy apartment together and waking up to each other’s faces every single morning for the rest of their lives, and he wants it. He pictures supporting Oikawa throughout his volleyball career, holding him in his arms after a victory, kissing his incredible soft lips, and he wants it. Then he pictures sex with Oikawa, and oh _God_ , does he want that. He doesn’t know how it took him so long to reach this conclusion, a conclusion that should have been rock-solid in his mind for years.

It’s July 1st, and Iwaizumi Hajime is in love with Oikawa Tooru in every way that it’s possible for a person to be in love, and he’s _terrified._

Nineteen days. He has nineteen days until he knows. The pressure is mounting to near impossible levels. Now, when he spends time with Oikawa, instead of inspecting every action minutely to try to figure out his own feelings, he spends all his time trying to fight the urge to jump Oikawa and kiss him senseless. It’s a terrible idea, he tells himself firmly. _Terrible_. He doesn’t know how much longer he can listen.

Oikawa’s acting a little differently, he notices. He’s spending more time with Hajime, walking just a little closer to him than before, smiling a little brighter. Hajime’s trying as hard as he can not to read anything into it. If Oikawa gets a soulmate that’s not Hajime, then that soulmate will probably take up most of his time and he won’t have as much time for Hajime in his life anymore. That’ll probably destroy Hajime’s soul, but, well, that’s life. He’ll learn to share. Oikawa’s probably thinking along the same lines- if this is the last time that the two of them will have together as just the two of them, then he probably just wants to make the most of it. Hajime won’t complain.

The two of them are going out together almost every night now- to dinner or over to each other’s houses to hang out and sort-of do homework. (Neither of them has much motivation now that summer vacation is almost here, but they’re marginally more likely to complete their homework if they do it together.) Hajime sometimes pretends they’re on a date, when they’re sitting across from each other eating ramen and Oikawa’s looking at him with his full attention. The gaze of those chocolate brown eyes can make Hajime feel like he’s the only person in the world that matters to Oikawa, and it makes his heart beat faster with hope. It’s possible, he thinks, that Oikawa could return his feelings. It’s not likely, but it’s _possible_. Sometimes he’ll turn around and see Oikawa watching him with something buried deep in his eyes. He doesn’t trust himself not to have imagined it, but it gives him hope.  
He regrets hoping, he really does. Every moment when his heart leaps is a moment that will come back to stab him in the chest like a rusty knife if Oikawa has someone else’s tattoo. But he can’t stop it any more than he could stop the tattoo forming in the first place. He feels like in every possible universe, tattoos or no tattoos, no matter what the times and the rules, he would fall in love with Oikawa, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself hoping that his love was returned. Something about them is just that eternal, that immutable.

He finds himself texting Suga (whose full name, he found out to his embarrassment about a week after they started talking, is not actually Suga but Sugawara) almost every day. The two of them dissect every detail of their encounters with their soulmates, trying to figure out if it’s possible, just maybe, that this is going to work out. Suga thinks it is for Hajime, and Hajime thinks it is for Suga- Suga’s soulmate seems a little oblivious to his own feelings, not that Hajime can judge, but like a very nice guy overall. They’re each less certain about their own situations than they are about each other’s, so it’s good to have the support that the other offers. Hajime’s so thankful that he thought to text Kageyama that one day- he doesn’t know if he could do this without Suga at his side.

Finally, after what seems like forever, it’s July 19th. He’ll know tomorrow, one way or the other. He wakes up with a sense of lingering dread that’s worse than the one he had the day of his birthday. He’s finally accustomed himself to the idea of being soulmates with Oikawa to the point where he can’t believe he ever thought he wasn’t destined to go through life at Oikawa’s side. The idea that Oikawa might not want him there forever, might replace him with some cute guy or girl who’ll laugh at all his jokes and go along with his stupid self-destructive schemes, is the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to deal with. It’s all he can do to drag himself out of bed.

Seeing Oikawa’s face sends a now-familiar jolt of energy through him. He slips his right hand (covered in a thin glove, as always since a few days after his birthday) into Oikawa’s left when they walk to practice together. It might be a little blatant, but oh well- either this is his last day before becoming Oikawa’s soulmate or his last day having Oikawa to himself, and he plans to savor it either way. Oikawa squeezes his hand tightly for most of the way to the school; he’s almost vibrating with nervous energy. At practice he’s slightly wild, retreating into himself just a little, serves tearing over the net with a tick more energy than usual. Hajime tries to keep him grounded, but it’s hard when he seems poised to fly away at every second. Hajime empathizes; really, the only thing keeping him tethered to himself at the moment is the need to take care of his captain. 

They walk home hand in hand again after practice. Oikawa is rubbing his thumb nervously over Hajime’s tattoo; Hajime almost feels the tattoo shift around restlessly on his hand, like it’s a living thing. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Oikawa asks. “I don’t want to be alone, when… you know. When it happens.” He’s still being delicate about the whole issue of soulmates, trying to spare Hajime, which Hajime honestly feels a little guilty about.

“Weren’t you born at, like, three in the morning?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“You want to stay up anyway?”

“Yeah. It’ll be cool seeing it appear, you know? And it’s not like we have school in the morning.” Their summer vacation started just a few days ago; they still have volleyball practice, but they’re enjoying the blissful freedom for now.

“Okay,” Hajime answers, “but I better get some coffee or something first. I hate staying up late.”

“Iwa-chan, you really _are_ an old man.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole.” Hajime elbows Oikawa in the side.

They watch sci-fi movies again that night. Hajime wonders if something can be a tradition if you’ve only done it once before and will never do it again; he feels like this should really qualify. Oikawa doesn’t have Pocky this time, but he does have a huge amount of mochi, which Hajime prefers. They eat it on the couch, fingers covered with powder, which Oikawa tries to wipe off on Hajime’s shirt. Hajime retaliates by wiping his own fingers on Oikawa’s hair, making the other boy screech and Hajime almost die laughing. He hopes he can distract Oikawa as well as Oikawa distracted him.

Three movies later (Hajime actually got to pick one of them this time from his own collection, which he counts as a victory), it’s around 2:30 in the morning. “Let’s go up to my bedroom, Iwa-chan,” says Oikawa, looking around nervously. Hajime follows him up the stairs, feeling the nervousness swell in his throat too. 

He doesn’t expect Oikawa to start stripping as soon as they enter his room. “Whoa, what the hell are you doing?” he asks, alarmed. He doesn’t know if he can handle this that late at night.

“The tattoo could show up anywhere, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says like Hajime is an idiot. “I won’t be able to see it if it’s covered up, will I?” He tugs his shirt off and starts on his shorts.

This is too much for Hajime’s heart. “Do you really think your soulmate tattoo is gonna show up on your ass?”

“Well, it _might_ ,” Oikawa says stubbornly. “It does for some people!” His shorts are off and his boxers half-off. Hajime is going to cry.

“I feel like I should be covering my eyes,” he says.

“Relax, Iwa-chan, you’ve seen me naked before.”

“We were, like, nine. I think this is different.”

“Anyway, I need you to watch my back,” Oikawa says, turning away from him, thank God. “In case it appears there.”

Staring at Oikawa’s ass is marginally less awkward than staring at his dick, and this way Oikawa can’t see him blushing. This is probably the best of all possible arrangements. “All right, fine,” sighs Hajime. “I’ve got your back.”

Oikawa can barely stand still- he’s bouncing on his tiptoes, craning his neck to watch for any lines forming anywhere on him. 

“What time were you born again?” asks Hajime.

“My parents don’t remember exactly… two forty-five or something like that,” says Oikawa, bouncing again. “Ugh, I can’t take this stress anymore. What if they’re less beautiful than me? How will I cope?”

“Oh my god, will you shut _up_ ,” says Hajime. “There are more important things than looks, you know.”

“Of course you’d say that, you don’t have them,” replies Oikawa, then holds up his hands- “Hey, hey, I’m just joking, please don’t hit me!”

“I wasn’t gonna hit you, Shittykawa,” yawns Hajime. “I’m too tired for hitting. You get a free pass this time, but the next time you insult my appearance is gonna be the last.”

They fall silent for a few minutes, Oikawa still jittery, Hajime almost as nervous. He feels a question bubbling to the surface. “Hey, Oikawa…”

“Yeah?” Oikawa looks at him over his shoulder.

“Is there anyone you want it to be?”

Oikawa doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “There is,” he finally says, and his voice is as quiet as Hajime has ever heard it.

Hajime suddenly can’t feel his heart at all. He wonders if it’s stopped beating for good, or if maybe time has stopped instead. “Who?” he asks, his tongue feeling like a slab of clay, too heavy and thick to form any other words.

Oikawa doesn’t answer- he’s too busy staring at his hand in awe. Hajime jumps up from the bed and hurries to his side, watching the tattoo form on Oikawa’s palm. The vine-like lines that he’s seen on his own tattoo are moving like a video of plant growth sped up, snaking across Oikawa’s hand to surround the sword and shield that are springing into being in the center. Hajime doesn’t know what to think, because the tattoo has the same silver-aqua-white color scheme that his does, and it’s in the same place, but… a sword and a shield? He has no idea who that could mean, but he has a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He clenches his right hand into a fist, his fingernails practically piercing through his glove and sinking into the flesh covered by his tattoo. It’s so unbelievably close and yet so unbearably far.

Oikawa doesn’t seem to have a problem interpreting it, though. He’s staring at his hand like he’s just been handed a gift that he didn’t dare to dream of before. A smile is spreading across his face, a smile so wide it hurts. He must have gotten who he wanted, Hajime thinks bitterly, and, well, he wishes them all the best-

“Iwa-chan, _show me yours_.” Oikawa’s voice is hushed, awed, like he’s standing in the presence of something amazing. He grabs Hajime’s hand, unclenches the fist, and rips off the glove. There sits Hajime’s crown, darker half-moons still etched into it from his fingernails. Oikawa gasps. He brings their hands side by side, the crown, the sword and shield, and suddenly everything comes into focus. The swirling backgrounds behind their icons match line for line. They’re made for each other. Oikawa and Hajime are made for each other.

He’s not sure who moves first; maybe they move together, as they always have. All he knows is that they’re kissing, Oikawa’s lips moving desperately on his, Hajime drinking in Oikawa’s essence. He tastes like mint chapstick and faintly like mochi. It’s perfect. His hands are entwined in Oikawa’s hair, twisting the soft and vaguely powdery strands, bringing Oikawa down to his level. Oikawa’s arms are wrapped around him, holding him so close that it feels like they’re in danger of merging into one person. Hajime thinks he wouldn’t mind that. The only thing that would make this moment even better would be if Oikawa weren’t _still freaking naked_. Even though he’s apparently allowed to touch now, it’s still slightly awkward to be fully clothed and pressed up against your naked best friend. Your naked _soulmate_ , he corrects his inner monologue, and smiles against Oikawa’s lips.

“I don’t understand, though,” he says once they come up for air. “A sword and shield? How does that mean me? I’m not-”

“Hajime,” Oikawa says, his voice caressing the syllables and making Hajime legitimately go weak at the knees, which, wow, was something he thought only happened in terrible fiction. “You’re my knight.”

“I’m your what?” Hajime blurts.

“If I’m a king, then you’re my knight,” Oikawa says. “You’ve always fought for me, and you protect me, even from myself. Of course this is for you,” he says, gesturing with his newly-inked hand. “It could never have been for anyone else.”

“I didn’t know,” says Hajime, throat feeling tight. “I wasn’t sure yours was going to be me.”

“Of course it was,” Oikawa says, sounding near to tears himself. “I’ve been in love with you for years, you idiot. I was even going to confess to you, the day before you got your tattoo, just in case, but you wouldn’t let me finish...”

“I think I’ve always been in love with you. I just didn’t realize it until I got my tattoo,” says Hajime.

“You always were slow, Iwa-chan,” teases Oikawa. 

“You always were an asshole. I confess my love to you and you insult me? Really?”

“You deserve it for making me wait that long. When did you realize your tattoo was for me?”

“Right away,” says Hajime, feeling shamefaced. He realizes now that he could have told Oikawa at any time, really. What they have is an ironclad certainty. He never needed to worry at all; tattoo or not, they’re forever. But, well, this moment was worth the wait.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Oikawa chastises him. “Do you have any idea how stressful the past month has been? I was _so sure_ yours was going to be me, and then you got it and you didn’t say anything, and I was _terrified_.”

“It hasn’t been a picnic for me either, figuring out that I liked you and then worrying that you didn’t like me back…” Hajime feels like a little kid, phrasing it in those terms, but oh well.

“Iwa-chan, are you blind? We’ve basically been dating for the past two weeks. How could you not figure out that I like you back?”

Hajime shrugs. “I kept second-guessing myself.”

“My soulmate is an idiot,” wails Oikawa.

“So’s mine, and he also needs to put some goddamn clothes on,” replies Hajime.

“Oh, but that’s so boring,” Oikawa winks. “I suggest you take yours off instead.”

“We just started dating five minutes ago and you’re already ready for that? So forward, Tooru-chan,” Hajime says in deadpan and pretends to swoon.

“I’m making up for years of sexual tension,” Oikawa shrugs. 

“You do have a point there.” Hajime considers it. “Hmmm, maybe tomorrow. We should sleep now.”

“We just confessed to each other and now you want to _sleep_? Iwa-chan, you are literally the least romantic person I’ve ever met in my life.”

“It’s 3 am and I woke up at 8 this morning. Coffee is not enough.” Hajime wraps his arms around Oikawa again. “We’ll have time in the morning, you know. We have forever.”

It’s funny, he spent so much time thinking about how to say _You’re my soulmate_ , but he never said it at all, did he? He guesses he never needed to.

It’s three in the morning on July 20th, and Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime are forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had fun on this wild ride! For questions, comments, or anything else, please visit me over at [oikawatooruinedmylife](http://oikawatooruinedmylife.tumblr.com) on Tumblr! I'll see you guys tomorrow!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this collection and my endless headcanons for Iwaoi! I'm at [oikawatooruinedmylife](http://www.oikawatooruinedmylife.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you have comments, questions, or anything else for me. Thanks so much for reading :)


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